


Nemesis

by MinervaNorth



Series: Chaos Theory [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, of course there's sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-07 06:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 89,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/pseuds/MinervaNorth
Summary: AJ Harper thought that after her boyfriend, Angus MacGyver, decided to quit working for the Phoenix Foundation their way of life would be protected. It took all of two days for Mac to disappear again. This time was the last time, AJ decided. She would never forgive him for what he did.And her grieving occurred in the worst of ways: AJ's default is violence, so violence she brings. After the death of one of their own, AJ goes on a spiral of revenge that could only be stopped by one person—Mac.But chaos theory works both ways, AJ would soon find out, and no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she avoided Mac, they would be forced back together.
Relationships: Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Chaos Theory [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533221
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. Kydomios: Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> In ancient Greek religion, Nemesis is the goddess who enacts retribution against those who succumb to hubris.
> 
> All chapters are names of war and death gods in many different pantheons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in over a year, AJ has finally found herself stable: a good— albeit dangerous— job, a good man, and a new home. That is, until it all comes crashing down around her in chaos at Mac’s latest announcement.

_Studio City, CA _

**Early May**

I can’t wait to talk to Mac.

After eight months of physical therapy and trying exceptionally hard to get back into the field, I’ve done it. Eight months after the terror in Istanbul. Eight months after Murdoc tried to kill me, I’m back, and I fully intend on taking advantage of that.

It’s been hell. It was worse than after Siberia, to be honest. With Mac in and out, and Riley, Jack, and Bozer criss-crossing the globe, I knew I had to get back into it. And now with Leanna, I feel like we could get some real good done. That is, if Matty decides to put us all together on some missions.

Regardless, I haul some groceries into my house: it’s a piece of shit, but it’s my newest project. I’m going to fix it up and make it mine.

My own house. It was time, and I’m about an hour closer to Mac now. Not that that was the reason I picked this place: it was really the bright blue door.

I unlock that damn blue door and slip in. Since I’m working on it, I don’t have any furniture in the front room, so Mac’s shadow—because I know it has to be him—surprises me as he peers out the back window into my very messy, mismatched brick patio.

“Mac, I didn’t know you were here yet,” I say, brushing my hair back from my face. I didn’t even have time to make myself presentable, but he still hasn’t turned from his position looking out the window. Even in the dark, he looks sad.

I don’t want to know why, I realize. The horror of the situation settles on me, but I feel like I’ve known all along this was an inevitability.

Two days ago, he quit Phoenix. We haven’t even talked about it. All we’ve been focused on is moving me into my new house. But since then, he’s gone quiet. He’s gone quiet, and for the last 48 hours, the terror has been building.

I don’t fear a lot. Not much scares me, except this. I flip on the light, and it’s like he blinks out of the darkness.

“I got the clear from Matty,” I say, but he just looks down at his dirty boots. I realize he’s got a bag at his feet. “Where… where are you going?”  
He doesn’t look at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’m leaving, AJ.”

My heart falls. I knew it was happening, but the truth of the matter is, I didn’t want him to. Not now. But there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Okay.”

He finally looks to me. He’s shocked, he’s scared, and he’s something else I can’t identify. “Okay? That’s… that’s all you have to say?”

“I expected it,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I expected that you would have to leave for a while after this and I don’t blame you. I’m… I’m not going to chase you down or stop you.”

His face falls. He lets out a heavy breath, but I keep my distance. It takes him a good minute before he speaks again.

“I can’t be in the same city as him. Not knowing what I know.”

“I know.”  
He looks increasingly frustrated at me. Not at me, I know, just… too much had happened for him to ignore, and I know that this was unavoidable. “I just wish… I wish you made this harder.”

That’s not what I was expecting. “Why would you say that?”

“I wish you would fight for me to stay, AJ.”

“This isn’t my decision,” I counter. “I’m not going to be the reason you’re miserable. You know that. That’s not how we work, Mac. If you have to leave, you have to leave. I just hope to God you’ll come back to me. I’m hurt. I hate this. But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, Mac.”

He quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and clears his throat before clearing the distance between us. He cups my face with his hand, kissing me lightly.

“I don’t know…. I don’t think I’m coming back, AJ. I don’t want you to wait for me.”

“You’ll be back,” I say confidently. He kisses me once more, harder this time.

The last time.

As he leaves out that damn blue door, I sink to my feet, and I don’t move until dawn comes.


	2. Agni: Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With AJ still in denial about Mac’s leaving, she continues to live what is left of her life: rebuilding her home and her job. But even those are on flammable ground, when everything loops back to him.

_Studio City, CA_

**Mid-May**

And just like that, everything changes.

After Mac’s ungraceful exit from the Phoenix, Matty goes on emotional lockdown. Sure, he quit, stating he couldn’t work for someone he didn’t trust, but it’s not going to last. He’s going to be back soon. He has to be back soon.

It’s been about a week and a half.

I can’t let my fear take over, thinking that he’s completely bailed on us, because I know he hasn’t. I know I just have to lean into it. It’s Mac’s way of coping. We each have our own way.

Bozer’s, I know, is cooking, which is why he’s currently ripping up the ugly linoleum in my kitchen, because the sooner that’s finished, the sooner he can start cooking for all of us. Leanna is painting the room a light Tiffany blue. I can hear them rapping along to an R&B song he’s got playing, although I have no idea who or what it is. Leanna giggles loudly, so I know they’re having fun. That’s all that really matters: they’re currently occupied.

I ignore those two for now, peering up into the main great room with its exposed beams in the ceiling. The dark wood created a beautiful contrast to the white walls. I rub my eyes, trying to force myself to stay awake.

“When did you find the time to paint in here?” Riley asks, teetering on a ladder as she sets up one of my security cameras pointing towards the front door. At least I have friends who don’t ask when I surveil my own home.

“Oh, last night,” I explain, ripping up more tack strip. It makes a satisfying ripping noise. I enjoy it a little too much.

“Did that not take you, like, all night?” Riley continues. She glances from me to Jack and back again. Jack just shrugs and continues laying down my nice new hardwood. We’re making short order of this new house, and it’s nice to have everyone together.

I have a feeling none of us want to be alone. Especially if we’re all benched.

It’s a nice vacation, AJ. Nothing more. He’ll be back soon.

“It did, indeed, take me all night,” I confirm. We’ve almost made it halfway, but I need to make sure all the carpet and padding underneath is pulled up before Jack makes it to my corner.

“Did you not sleep?!”

“Nope!” I say, ripping up more of the nails with a little bit more enthusiasm than I probably should have.

Instead of saying anything further, Riley just goes back to work, and Jack grabs his beer, sitting on the upside-down bucket we’ve been using as a drink stand near me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispers.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m totally fine. He’s… he’s gonna come back.”

“You say that, and I say that, but—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘but’,” I say, wielding my discarded tack strip like a rapier. He leans back from me, although he doesn’t look that frightened by my attack.

“This is serious shit, AJ. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “It’s fine. He’s gonna be back. He’s gonna be back, and—”

“What did he even say to you?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, taken aback. It’s been ten days and Jack hasn’t even asked.

“The hell did he say to you when he left?”

I set my jaw. He knows this is off limits. He knows that if we’re talking about it, it means it’s real. And I don’t want it to be real. I desperately don’t want it to be real.

“He said he didn’t know if he was coming back, Walk.”  
“Anything else?”  
“He said I shouldn’t wait for him.”

Jack’s shoulders sink a little, and it’s exactly what I was afraid of. I didn’t want to confirm his fears by saying it out loud.

And I didn’t want to confirm mine.

“He… he just needs a little time, yeah?” Jack says, and I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or his.

“Everything is gonna be fine,” I say, clinking my beer bottle against his. I fight against my urge to sleep. It’s not like I haven’t gone this long without sleep before, but I’m getting to the point where I’m just damn exhausted. More than just tired.

“Your necklace,” Jack says, gesturing towards my neck. “You’re not… you’re not wearin’ it anymore.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t need it.”

He looks at me, he peers at me like he’s speaking to a child. The longer he sits like that, the longer I stare back, blank-faced.

“Are you really bein’ that petty?”

“Are you really being that much of an asshole?”

“I thought you were fine about all this, and then you stop wearing the necklace he got you. With your mom’s patron saint medal.”

“It held too many bad memories.”

“Is that why you moved outta your house?”

“Can I get you a ladder, so you can get off my back? I’m fine, Jack. I really am fine.”

I don’t think Jack believes me, and he’s about to launch into another tirade, but we’re cut off by someone coming opening the front door. Matty carries two six packs, while Jill brings in the pizzas, much to my happiness.

“Jill!” I call out, and she blows me a kiss.

“Can I put these in the kitchen?”

“There might be some sort of surface in there that’s sufficient for pizzas.”

“Besides my mouth?” Bozer calls out. I chuckle. We’re all fine. We’re all dealing with this. He’ll be back soon, in the middle of the chaos we call the Phoenix Foundation.

Jill brings me back a plate of pizza and another cold beer.

“You know, if you didn’t have Emily…” I drift, shaking my head at her.

“You know I’m spoken for.”

“Are we on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Only if you get some sleep tonight,” she chides. “You look awful, AJ.”

I mock being hurt, but I know there’s a grain of truth. She looks at me sidelong for a moment before heading back into the kitchen. I see her glance back at me before she does.

She knows. She knows more than the rest of them, I think. But like hell would Jill rat me out. She’s better than that.

Still, the pain is raw, and it only threatens to get worse the longer he’s gone.

I look to the bright blue door. I know I can’t change the color. I just keep imagining him walking through.

* * *

_Eastern Savannakhet Province, Laos _

**Mid-May**

_“I know you’re struggling, AJ, but I want you to know we’re all here for you.”_

I groan. “I’m fine. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m fine. He’s only been gone for like, two weeks. He’s going to be back soon, and we’ll all go back to normal. Besides, shouldn’t you only be using this line for necessary communication?”  
_“Your personal life isn’t necessary communication?” _Jill comes back, her Southern accent coming through just ever so slightly. It’s fine. I’m just in the middle of nowhere, in a desolate area of the world, trying to avoid any sort of unexploded ordnance in the jungle.

I hack at what I can with my machete, but it’s slow going, watching where I’m stepping and trying not to welcome any of the wildlife.

“Not right now, it isn’t. Don’t you have some tracking to do?”  
“_Unlike you, I can talk about your personal life and get my work done,”_ she adds.

“I can tell you’re smiling, but I still hate you for it. Can we do something to pass the Bechdel test today? Thanks.” I don’t need to be talking about this anymore. It’s not a priority. It’s not even in my mind.  
“_You’re nearing the drug facility.”_

_“_What’s my best access point?” I say.

“_West side, closer to the mountains,”_ Jill responds.

My mind should be on the mission: shutting down this heroin plant. Well, apparently that’s what the first team tried to do: infiltrate and arrest them. But unfortunately, they were unsuccessful, and it was my turn.

I was strike two. If I can’t… convince them to end their production, strike three is a fully armed tac team.

Although I am a bit jealous that I couldn’t be strike three. With the anger that threatens to boil in my throat, I feel like it would do me some good to get it out by merc’ing a bunch of drug dealers.

_“You’re in your own head again,”_ Jill says. “_Be careful. You’re headed into an area noted for UXOs._”

“I thought this entire area was known for the UXOs,” I counter, brushing away the nearest jungle tree. For someone who operates mostly in South America, I fucking hate the jungle. It’s too extra. Give me the desolate, empty cold any day.

Even though, I shiver. I don’t want to think about Siberia. Siberia leads to panic, panic leads to fucking up. Fucking up leads to death.

Death leads to… well, who knows?

_“Get out of your head, AJ. I know you’re gonna tell me you’re not, but I’m here to pull you—”_

The hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “Jill, stop.”

“_You okay—”_

Something felt incredibly wrong around me. I’d like to say it’s my years of experience, but I know the sound of a grenade hitting ground.

I run in the opposite direction of the sound. I don’t know how they could have heard me, if they even did, or if this was just a deus ex machina in the fucking drama of my life, but I run as fast as I can.

I know, with the unexploded ordnance that could be in this area, I might not get far enough.

There’s a quick succession of explosions: one, two, three. The first, a familiar one: the sound of a grenade going off, destroying the world around it. The second then third, immediately after the first. Two screaming roars, raging heat, something burning as I try to outrun the blast.

I can’t. I’m tossed by the blast wind, and I roll in the dirt.

I hear Jill on my comms: “_AJ? –can—hear me? I –lost—” _before I rip it out of my ear, smash it, and pass out.

* * *

I use my typical tactic of listening to my surroundings before I open my eyes. I do know that I’m restrained. Not this again. It doesn’t feel anything like Siberia, though. I’ll need to do my own reconnaissance.

They start in a language I don’t understand, then another starts cursing in French. My French is basic, at best, but I know enough Spanish to be able to vaguely understand that they’re about to torture me for information.

Not again.

I try to take stock of my injuries before I open my eyes. I know there’s some sort of slight concussion: I’m dizzy, and I hit the ground hard after the UXOs went off. I don’t feel like there’s any other lasting issues, other than pain in my chest from how I landed. My hearing’s a little wavery, and I feel like there might be some burns on my arms, but other than that, I’m breathing fine and I’m not going to die yet.

Until I hear one of them say, “get the mask, fast” and something is quickly pulled over my head.

It’s wet. It’s musty and wet, and it’s tight.

Oh, here we go. In a quick motion, I’m pulled backwards, my chair leaning back on two legs, and I take a deep breath.

The water hits so fast and heavy, the air is almost forced out of my lungs, but I know it’s coming so I can mentally prepare. It’s not the first time I’ve been waterboarded, and I’m sure it’s not going to be the last, so I keep my eyes shut and wait for unconsciousness or for them to stop.

I’m almost afraid they’re going to take too long, but the water stops and I get pushed back to four legs. I can breathe as soon as they rip the mask from my face.

“Who are you?” The man continues in French. It’s typical: four of the five men surrounding me are Laotian, but there is one white guy who I imagine is running the operation.

But they’ve been stupid. They didn’t take me inside the warehouse. Instead, we’re close to the west side, outside, in the clearing before the jungle. I could make a break for it, if the guys with M16s aren’t trigger happy.

Unlikely.

“Well, shit,” I mutter in Spanish. Might as well hide that I’m an American. “I didn’t know I was going to have to speak French today. Uh, how about _une avant-courrière de la morte?_”

The Laotians start to laugh a little, but the white man doesn’t. I stare him down, giving him a little smirk.

The mask goes on again. I’m under the water again, and this time, it slips into my throat. I can’t keep it back, and for a minute, I feel like I might go this time. But in the nick of time, I’m thrust back upwards, staring at the French asshole, soaked and angry.

“Not so tough anymore, are you, bitch?”

I start to cough, trying not to throw up. I finally regain some sort of lucidity as he grabs my throat and nearly pulls me off my seat.

“Who do you work for?”

“_La Grande Faucheuse_,” I mock hoarsely. “Have you seen my scythe and robe anywhere?”

“I am finished with her games,” he says, and pulls what almost looks like a pistol, until I’m locked up. I can’t move, and I realize, suddenly, that he’s tased me. I can’t breathe, I can’t move, I can’t speak. It’s excruciating, and he won’t stop. He only stops when I’m seconds from passing out. I’m sure the water doesn’t make it any better.

“Time to tell us who sent you.”

Okay, fair enough. This is going to Hell wicked fast, but it takes me longer than I want it to take for my body to allow me to speak again. I used that time to try to survey my surroundings—warehouse, jungle, men—

I’m locked up once more. I can’t move. He’s shot me again. This time, the adrenaline surges through my body as he lets it shock me for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Tell me who sent you,” he finally says again, releasing the trigger.

At first, I have to try to breathe. He’s got to know I can’t answer a damn question without air in my lungs, but my body still seems to tingle, even though he’s not shooting me up with more volts than I deserve. I feel like a walking Charlie Horse.

“I did tell you. Her name is the Grim Reaper, and she’ll get you sooner or later—”

And just like that, without a plan or anything, the first Laotian drops. Whoever is shooting, they go in a circle, and they don’t even have enough time to run away.

The Frenchman goes to hide, and the taser cord grows taut. He’s still got enough leverage on me. I try to wrench myself from my bonds, shift in the chair, but he shocks me again. I end up on the ground, still tied in the chair.

I close my eyes, still shuddering from the electric shocks, still unable to move. I really want to just slip into unconsciousness, but that would be unwise. Instead, I let my head lull. This is fine. I don’t want to die here, but I’ll just… I wait for a moment. I haven’t been shot yet, so that’s a plus. They might not be here for me.

Instead, though, I hear someone slipping through the brush. It’s a slight noise, not one that’s meant to cause a ruckus; I try to focus my eyes on the figure cutting across the clearing.

Whoever it is, she’s dressed in black tac gear, which means I’m either not long for this world, or she has a helicopter much closer than I do.

She ignores me at first, a flash of blonde hair sprinting past me and into the main warehouse. I hear three more gunshots and three more bodies drop.

Well, I know one thing: she’s not here for me. I hope at least she’s a neutral. I would give a hell of a lot for a friendly. The Frenchman speaks once more as I see her in my peripheral.

“Step any closer, and I’ll kill your friend.”  
“Where’s the other warehouse?”

I look behind me to the individual wreaking havoc and I let out a heavy breath of relief.

“Of all the heroin warehouses in all the UXO plagued countries in all the world, you walk into mine,” I say in English.

“Now that’s a pick-up line that could work on me,” Samantha Cage says, leveling her handgun at the Frenchman’s head. She turns back to speak to him. “Where’s your operation?”

Instead of responding to her, the electricity slams into me once more. He doesn’t let up.

I think I hear a gunshot before I pass out.

* * *

“AJ, c’mon. You can do better than that—”

I gasp awake, nearly smashing into Sam. I see, over her shoulder, the Frenchman, lacking most of his head after she shot him. Instead, though, she forces me to look at her once more.

“Hey. Hey, look at me. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Same as you,” I manage. She’s untied me, and I’m still struggling to move. I see the burns on my hands from the UXOs. Well, the exploded ordnances, now. She braces my side and deftly removes one of the taser barbs.

“It’s really too bad we can’t correspond on black ops missions,” she says, pulling the other one out of my skin. This one was deep, and it makes me bleed. “Looks like I came at the right time.”

“I had… I had the interrogation under control,” I say as she pulls me to my feet. I waver, my knees buckling from too much electric shock. It’s like all my muscles have forgotten how to move in tandem. “Okay, maybe not so much. Sam, it’s really good to see you.”

She slides my arm over her shoulders, pulling me closer at the hips. In fact, she looks kind of surprised. “Yeah, well, I rejoined my old unit after Murdoc tried to kill me. Good news for you, I would think.”

“You didn’t want to come back to Phoenix?” I say.

She seems to listen to her comms, and then responds. “The package has been dropped, and I’ve got another in tow. Yes, Shaw, a friendly. Do you think I would be snagging a tango?” She turns back to me. “If you can, we need to move a little faster. That warehouse is going to blow and I don’t want to be in the blast radius.”  
“I’ve already been in enough blast radiuses for the day.”

“I saw that,” she says grimly. “That’s the only reason I tracked down this warehouse. We didn’t have an exact location on it.”

“See, that’s what we had, but I apparently didn’t have a decent enough pathway through the UXOs. Maybe we should work together more often,” I say. She moves quickly through a prepared path. It looks like the one she had taken to get there. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know,” she says, in her typical way. We’re nearly to another clearing when we both hear a massive explosion. I can feel the heat from here, but we’re to the chopper. She helps me inside, and as she jumps in, they’re already moving upwards.

She hands me a headset as she slips hers on, glancing at the co-pilot. “Hey, Shaw. Get me Matty Webber from the Phoenix Foundation on the line.”

“Who?” I hear him ask.

“Just call HQ and do it. Tell her I want to start corresponding on our missions, yeah?”

He does what she orders, which makes me think she’s the one in charge of this team. She answers the unsaid question easily with half a shrug and a smirk. Out of the open side of the helicopter, I see the warehouse I was supposed to try to keep intact burning hot and wild. I hope the fire won’t catch the rest of the jungle, but at the same time, much of this land is covered in UXOs and opium plants, so I hope that it helps clear out some of that danger.

“I couldn’t leave home. My sister had a baby,” she finally explains, almost sheepishly. “His name is Peregrin.”  
“Oh my God, like _Lord of the Rings_?” I ask instinctively.

“They call him Pippin.”

“Sam, are you a huge nerd, too?” I gasp, and some of her team laughs along with me.

She just glares.

“I pulled you into this helicopter, and I could drop you out of it.”  
I just give her a wink.


	3. Deimos: Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ gets reprimanded as she heads into her next op with Samantha Cage. But even as she tries to reconnect with Mac and sort out the latest terrorist cell, the dread continues to set in.

_[Classified] _

**Late May**

Matty paces in front of me, looking exhausted. I’m just as exhausted. I probably look worse, after getting zapped so many times. I can’t help but admit that I’m still sore. Maybe I am getting too old for this. Maybe it’s time to come up with a backup plan.

“We’re going to be working closely from now on with Samantha Cage’s unit,” Matty continues. “With the intel we’ve been going off of with these recent terrorist attacks, and the fact you two ran into each other, we think it’s in our best interest to keep each other apprised on the subject. Are you listening to me, Harper?”

“Of course,” I say. “Working with Sam. Got it.”

“That being said, I’m sending you to Germany. You’re going to join up with her. You’re going to function as her Overwatch as you make a weapons deal.”

“Any other information we’re going to need?”

“Not at this time,” she says, glancing back at the large television screen. When she turns around, I turn my focus to Jill. She keeps typing, and after a moment, she finally looked up to me. She gives me a squint, the universal expression of ‘what do you want’, and I just shrug and look at the main screen.

“You’re dismissed, Jill.”

Jill gives me a grin as she heads out of the room, and I’m left with Matty. She very nearly circles me before she points at the chair, forcing me to sit down and get to her eye level.

“How are you doing, Harps?”

“How am I doing? I’m doing fine,” I scoff. “Got zapped a few more times than I would like, but I’m fine. Glad to be working with Sam again.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then I’m not sure what you mean,” I say. This time, she takes half a step backward. I don’t mean for the sentence to come out as dark as it did, but I stand by it as she tries to recover.

“MacGyver’s been gone for three weeks now, and I know this can’t be easy on you.”

“Easy on me? Easy?” I stand up. “How soon is wheels up?”

“AJ, please,” she starts to plead.

“I hope you don’t think my attitude is dependent on a guy. Especially one who just left everything behind. I’m better than that.”

“He isn’t just ‘a guy’ and you know it. He’s your best friend, he’s your boyfriend, and I know you, Harps. Someone who cracks through to that part of you isn’t someone who can just walk away without repercussions. I know how it feels. I’ve been there before. But you’ve got to sort this out on your own before it kills you in the field.”

I step backwards towards the door. I can’t help but scoff. “Matty, I don’t even care. He’s gone. We’re not. And who knows if he’s coming back? I sure don’t. He hasn’t told me.”

“I don’t think he’s coming back, AJ,” Matty pleads.

It’s not the first time I’ve considered the possibility, but it’s the first time I’ve heard it out loud from Matty. With that, I just push open the war room door.

“I’ll be on the tarmac in twenty.”

I huff past Jill, but she doesn’t intervene. She knows not to try to distract me at this point. It’s not worth the energy.

I head towards the armory, and while I do, my phone starts to ring. It’s Jack.

“What’s up, Walker?”

“_How are you feelin’?”_

I groan. “Why is everyone so concerned about my feelings today?”

_“Uhh, you remember our last conversation?”_

I stop. I remember what we had talked about, sure, but I wasn’t sure there would be an actual response.

“Did you hear from him?” I ask, my voice wavering a little.

“_I called him four times, Thea. I told him you were in the hospital—”_

“Not a lie,” I say, pushing open the armory door with my hip.

“_Tried to tell him that you were laid up, told him you got blown up, told him about the electrocutions, but nothing. I’m sorry, Thea. He didn’t call me back.”_

I take in a heavy breath. Fine. Fine, if that’s the way he’s going to play it, fine.

“_I can literally hear you deflating. Please stop it. Don’t… don’t lose hope, okay? I’ll try again.”_

I stare at the walls of weaponry. “Walk, I don’t know what else could convince him. I mean, if he doesn’t care about… about that, what’s going to get him to come back?”

“_I don’t know. I don’t know… it’s gonna take one of us needin’ our bacon saved pretty damn bad.”_

“Well, maybe we need to try our damndest to get into some sort of situation, Walker. That’s the only way we’re going to get Mac back.”

I hang up the phone as I find my trusty Valkyrie sniper rifle.

I really hope I get to shoot someone.

* * *

_Spreepark, Berlin, Germany_

**Late May**

_“Have you made it high enough yet?” _Sam’s voice comes through the comms, slightly irritated. I keep moving. Climbing a Ferris Wheel in the dark isn’t quite my forte, but I continue, trying not to slip.

“Can’t you tell by my heavy breathing I’m not quite there yet?”

_“Just checking. Would love to have you in an overwatch position before this weapons sale goes down, yeah?”_

I slip out of the gondola I was resting in, grasp onto the metal, and start shimmying up the side again. I can’t look down. “It would help if these Ferris wheel gondola fuckers didn’t move when I tried to climb up them, you know.” I get to the yellow gondola, about thirty feet off the ground, and hoist myself inside. “There. Are you happy? I’m high enough.”

_“Are you high enough to get us on sights?”_

I dump my unused rope on the floor of the gondola and I start assembling my Valkyrie. Jesus Christ, you’d think she would trust me by now. “I wasn’t very happy climbing this thing. You could have done this.”

_“And then who would have made the arms deal? Certainly not you. You have the charisma of a block of wood. Besides, I’m the one who can speak German.”_

“Hey. That’s not fair. I can charm the pants off of anyone,” I say, loading my gun and setting my sights on Cage, standing in the middle of the fairway. I can even see her roll her eyes.

_“One, men named ‘Angus MacGyver’ don’t count. Two, you can only do that when you have a gun pointed in their ribs.”_

“Uh, rude. Besides, ‘charisma’? Have you been playing Dungeons and Dragons again?”

_“So what if I have?”_

**“**Nerd,” I call out, “I’m in position.”

“_I see them coming.”_

“Should I roll for initiative?”

_“Of course, you know what I’m talking about—”_ She calls off something in German, and I don’t take the time to translate. Instead, I level my sights at the closest weapons dealer to Cage. If this goes sideways, I don’t want her to be the one who goes down. I can’t lose someone else.

Things are going swimmingly until I hear Matty’s panicked voice over comms.

_“You both need to get out of there. Now. We have intel—”_

There’s a gunshot that cuts off Matty’s call to bail. I don’t see where it comes from, but I see Cage pull her gun and scatter. It takes me five seconds to line up the shot, account for the slight westerly breeze, and take him out.

I can see the blood spray from around his right eye. His partner is next: just a foot to the right as he runs.

He drops before he even realizes what’s happened.

Cage ducks behind one of the defunct food vendor stations and I know there’s at least two more shooting at her.

“Get me a location, Cage, and I can get you a clean kill.”

_“My… my 1 o’clock, behind the—”_

I find him, and before she even finishes the sentence, he’s on the ground.

“_There’s one more, but he rabbited,”_ Cage says, out of breath. “_I’m going after him.”_

“Let me get down there first!”

_“If I don’t go now, he’s going to escape!”_

I see her start running out of the general area, and I know I’m not going to be able to climb down fast enough.

I look down. I can’t jump—it’s about thirty feet. I’d break something first. What the hell can I do—what’s in this damn gondola? A lot of dirt. A lot of creaky metal probably not good enough to hold my weight. Can I do anything with some of the broken metal pieces?

What would he—

I find two that nearly match in size and before I can even think about it, I’m tying them together with my climbing rope. If I can toss it good enough, I can loop it like a grappling hook around one of the inner metal beams of the wheel.

Worth a shot.

The first one doesn’t make contact, so I wind it back and heave it once more. It loops around a weaker piece of metal, but I don’t care. It’s good enough. I climb over the edge of the gondola, brace myself, and let my gloved hands take the brunt of the roughness as I ride the rope on the way down. It’s a fucking insane plan, especially when I realize I’m about eight feet short.

I don’t care. I secure my weapon and jump, and even though my ankles get the brunt of my fall, the near brush with death is a bit intoxicating.

I chase after Cage. I don’t know where she’s gone to, but I just follow the gunfire. I see her blonde hair on another part of this terrifyingly empty amusement park: it looks like one-part Viking ship, one-part pirate ship, lodged halfway underneath a broken bridge. She hides behind part of the ship where the wheel would have been, and the last target comes at her from the bridge. I level my rifle at him, bracing it at my hip, and take the shot.

The first thing I hear after the silence of death is Cage laughing.

“You literally no-scoped him! In real life!”

“You’re horrifying, you know that?” I say, making sure I have a new bullet in the chamber. “I don’t even know what that means. You’ve been hanging out with your sister too much.”  
She heads to the part of the ship that was stuck under the bridge and vaults it so she can join me on the rickety boards.

“How’d you get down from the Ferris Wheel so quickly?”

“Rigged up a grappling hook and slid my way down.”  
She looks at me, eyebrows high. “You’ve been taking notes.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, although I know exactly what she means.

“Sounds like a MacGyverism,” Cage begins.

“So let me guess. Human assassin?”  
“Nope. You’re trying to distract me by moving away from talking about him.”

“Half-elf kensei?”

“What edition do you know?” She scoffs.

“Uh, second?”

“That is like, twenty years old now,” she starts, but Matty’s voice cuts us both off.

_“Does anyone want to know why your weapons deal became a shootout, or are you going to flirt for a little bit longer?”_

_“_We’re listening, Matty,” I say, checking our six for anyone else.

_“We have… we have some intel that doesn’t make sense,” _she explains. “_We have reason to believe they were connected to a terrorist organization… run by Tiberius Kovacs, although he’s supposed to have been dead for years.”_

“What, repeat your last?” I ask Matty.

“_Tiberius Kovacs. I didn’t stutter.”_

I sigh. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. “What do we do?”

“_It’s currently unconfirmed,” _Matty says. _“I don’t want you telling Jack. Not yet.”_

“Affirmative,” I say. “Exfil location?”

“_We can get a chopper in at the park_,” she explains. _“Maintain your location. Half an hour.”_

Matty goes dark, but Sam doesn’t. She just reloads and starts her interrogation.

“So, I know about Tiberius Kovacs, but why do you, and why do you not want Jack to know?”  
It’s easier to tell her than fight against her, so I give her the briefest explanation possible.

“Jack tried to find him for ten years. He thought he killed him himself. And Matty seems to think all these terrorist organizations are leading back to him.”  
She takes it in for a moment. “I think it’s best he doesn’t know.”

“Not my call,” I say, taking apart my weapon and slipping back in my backpack. I replace it with my Colt. I feel her eyes boring into me, but I can’t bring myself to care.

* * *

_Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, LA_

**Late May**

The chandeliers above us sparkle in the evening light, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

It’s not an op, it’s not any sort of escape, I’m not running a heist or conning a mark.

Even the dress isn’t something I’m used to: a simple, off the shoulder number in a beautiful garnet.

“Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?”

I look over my shoulder to Bozer. My date for the night, as it were. Even after my frequent threats to Leanna, she was perfectly fine with him escorting me tonight. I mean, as much as she would appreciate the opera, I don’t think Bozer would have as much fun if it wasn’t with me.

“Have _I_ told you yet how beautiful you look?”

He adjusts the sleeves of his garnet colored suit jacket and offers me his arm. I take it without hesitation, and we mill about the people gathering for the yearly celebration gala. Matty had gifted us her pair of tickets. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling she thought we needed a break.

“I wish I knew you loved Puccini a long time ago,” Bozer says, stopping a nearby waiter. We both take champagne flutes.

“My mom loved the opera,” I confess, although I’m not sure why I feel the need to. Maybe I feel like I owe Bozer an explanation. Maybe we had been friends for long enough. Regardless, I hear myself speaking. “She was a music teacher. She went to the open rehearsals a lot, since we couldn’t afford tickets to the real opera. The last one I remember going to with her when I was a kid and still cared about that sort of thing was _Turandot_.”

He looks up to the giant banners hanging off the ceiling two floors above us, showing the painted face of the main player and the name I just spoke.

“Did Matty know?”

“That’s a loaded question,” I say, leaning against one of the tall tables. “Did I ever tell her? No. Did she know? She probably found out in the way that she always finds out.”

“Mac doesn’t know,” Bozer seems to admit. “I’ve got a certain reputation, you know.”

“For liking weird art movies and making sci-fi films in your living room?”  
He chuckles, looking down at his glass. “Not for a while. Not since I joined the Phoenix. But I always loved the musicals in high school, and while I couldn’t sing, I was always working backstage.”

“I was ensemble on _Guys and Dolls_ my junior year, but I snagged Titania when we did _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. I had so much fun with it.”

“You were acting. You’re very good at that,” he says, gesturing with his champagne glass.

I chuckle, just once. He’s right. I’m playing a dangerous game, pretending to be okay while Mac is gone. But that’s what it is: pretending. We all know the horrible truth: he’s not coming back. And we’re all going to have to deal with that in our own time.

Right now, though, I’m going to shove it down. I’m going to ignore it. And I’m going to enjoy my time with B tonight.

“Gray. Here.”

I shake out of my thoughts at B’s insistence; he pushes another champagne flute towards me.

“You look like you need it.”  
“I’m sorry, B. I’m just…”

“You’d rather be here with Mac. I get it.”  
“Well, yes and no,” I admit, turning around to watch the high rollers start heading into the theatre. “I just don’t know if he would appreciate this as much as you do.”

He downs his own champagne flute, so I follow suit before taking his arm.

“Shall we?”

* * *

“Alright, so I think I’m following so far, but the prince pulled a double or nothing, and even though he won, he’s making her guess his name?”

I lean over to B, whispering, “Exactly. And if she does, she still gets to merc him. If not, they get married.”  
“You make this beautiful opera so understandable, Gray.”

“It’s what I do,” I say. “She’s made her entire kingdom stay awake until they figure it out. Here. This aria is one of the most famous, literally, ever. ‘None shall sleep, not even you, Princess’,” I translate. “’No one will know my name and I will tell you at dawn. I will win.’”

“Damn, this guy is hardcore.”

“Listen,” I say, nodding towards the stage. Around the beautiful red and gold dragon, our prince descends down the steps, singing out in Italian. For a moment, I’m not in LA. I’m at the Boston Lyric Opera, and I’m thirteen, sitting with my mom. The last show she ever made it to. Granted, we had snuck into the rehearsal after mom had made friends with one of the ticket ladies, but it’s fine. I got to see so many operas that way. I’ve forgotten more than I can remember anymore.

I remember her leaning over to me to describe what was happening just like I did to Bozer. I was a little louder and a bit more insistent, but it felt the same.

The tears well in my eyes. I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed her until _Nessun Dorma. _It’s funny how those things remind you of the people you’ve lost.

Our Calaf hits that last “Vincerò” and I look over to Bozer. The tears are rolling down his face at an alarming rate.

We’re silent until the end of the show. We’re even silent as we head out, out into the bright lights of LA, getting a ride so we can make our ways home.

Eventually, finally, Bozer breaks the silence.

“I thought you could stop him, you know. I thought you could tell him not to leave, but I know now you couldn’t have. But I know if anyone could have, it would have been you.”  
I stare out of the window for a while. I don’t know how to answer, to be honest, but I can’t just give B my blanket answers. He and I have been through too much together.

“He’ll be back, B. He has to come back,” I say, reaching for his hand. It’s a simple gesture that he appreciates much more than I ever would. “We’re here, right? He has to come back.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”  
“He will,” I whisper. “He will.”

The driver pulls up to my still rickety looking house. I glance to Bozer, and he gives me another sad smile.

“Do you wanna come inside?”  
He quickly pays the driver, so I wait for him, not willing to go through the bright blue door on my own. When we get inside, he marvels at the great room.

“You finished it in here?”

“Just this room,” I say. “This room and the kitchen. The bedrooms aren’t finished, so I’ve been sleeping on the couch.”

He peers at the empty, unfinished house, but he looks around like it’s the best thing he’s seen in a while. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, then finally speaks again.

“Do you… do you care if…”

I kick off my shoes. “Bozer, you can stay as long as you want,” I say, tossing him one of the pillows I had been using to the longer couch.

“I just… I don’t think I can go home.”

“I know how quiet that house can be, and I don’t want to be alone either.”


	4. Neikea: Quarrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Riley and Jill try their best to help AJ work through Mac’s leaving, they soon find out they only make it worse. It comes to a head with Jack and a quarrel only they could have, leading to a truth AJ wanted to never uncover.

_North Hollywood, CA _

**Early June**

“Riles, where are we going?”

“You’re too tense. You need a girls’ night.”

“I’ll never turn down a date with you, Riley, but I would absolutely love to know where we are going. For safety reasons.”

She just directs the Uber driver to pull over near a dark, almost shady looking warehouse. There’s a metal sign on the side that just says “LA AX”.

“This looks dangerous,” I say, eyeing the locale. “I mean the fun kind of dangerous, not the bad kind. The kind we’re used to.”

“There’s a reason I told you to wear plaid,” she says, grinning.

“No. No you didn’t. This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

She pulls the door open with a flourish. The warehouse beyond looks like a warped, industrial bowling alley, except there are wooden targets on the opposite end. At one of the lanes, there are high top tables, and I see Jill, who waves. She’s wearing her own plaid: a plaid sundress that looks both wildly out of place and adorably in character.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Riles. This is amazing. Jill’s even here—”

“You can freak out after the safety briefing.”

I only half pay attention. I know how to throw an ax. I mean, every girl should. Riley, though, pays attention, her own plaid hanging around her waist. Jill has decided to merely be a spectator.

God, I love them. They’re some of the only reasons I’m still alive, I’m convinced. Even right now, as we’re about to use potentially dangerous weapons as fun, I feel the anger slipping away. I’m not as pissed at the world for a moment, and I already call that a win.

They hook us up with our own lane, and all I want is an ax. Someone give me an ax. Someone finally gives me an ax, and I position myself correctly to throw.

Someone asks if I know what I’m doing. I two handed toss it towards the target, and it hits just a little above and to the right of the bullseye.

“She’s fine,” Jill says, grinning at the attendant. He just nods once and backs away, seemingly realizing we’ve got this under control. I quickly retrieve my ax and offer the range to Riley.

“Oh, I’m good for now. This isn’t for me. This is for you.”

I give her my best side eye. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.”

“We we’re going to talk about this when it wasn’t a problem,” Jill says. “But it’s becoming a problem, so we need to talk about it.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea when I’m in a room full of throwing axes?”

“Actually, I thought it was the best idea, yeah,” Riley says, commiserating with a nodding Jill. “Throw your damn ax.”

I do as she says, and this time, it nearly hits the bullseye.

“You haven’t heard from him, have you?” Riley asks.

I retrieve the ax, pulling it out of the wooden wall with a thud. “Nope.”

“AJ, we’re… we’re all going to have to move on, you know,” Jill offers.

I pause, throwing the ax harder than before. This one sinks hard into the plywood at the top of the bullseye.

“Move on? Why would I want to move on? He’s… he’s the only reason I’m alive. Several times over. I’m pissed off. I’m fucking frustrated. This is not fair. He can’t be the only one allowed to just run away. And you know what? I blame Oversight. I blame him, because if he had only been truthful, this would have never happened. So I don’t know what to do. I don’t. I can’t leave like he did. I have no where else to go. What else can I do? What other job could I have?” I don’t look, tossing the ax one handed. This time, it bounces off the plywood and down to the floor.

“Running from Mac isn’t going to make you happy,” Riley says. “It’s only going to make you feel worse. You’re not a runner, AJ, you’re a fighter, and I know we can all get through this together. It’s gonna be rough, sure, but I swear we can do it. I promise you we can do it.”

I toss the ax one more time. This time, it sinks so deep into the plywood that it nearly splits the target.

“I don’t want to move on. I think we should go looking for him.”

I turn back to the two of them, and they both share a long, silent look.

“You already know where he is.”  
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Jill offers.

“He has to know that we will.”

“That’s not the point,” Riley says.

“I think… I think if you want any hope of him coming back, you’re going to just have to let him be,” Jill says.

I consider her statement. It still pisses me off. It’s never going to change that. But knowing where he is, knowing he’s safe, it definitely softens the blow the tiniest of bits.

“Can you monitor him? Just… just make sure he’s safe.”

“Already have been,” Riley says, fist bumping Jill. Jill at first doesn’t quite understand what Riley is doing, but recovers pretty well.

I toss my ax once more. It hits the bullseye and splits the wood down the center.

* * *

_Studio City, LA_

**Early June**

I know Riley’s intention was to calm me down after our ax throwing date, but in reality, it just made me all the more pissed off.

The rest of them are working this weekend, a 48 hours shift doing intel gathering, and I was not invited. Quite frankly, it was a good idea: me, doing a reconnaissance mission, is something I haven’t done in ten years, and I don’t want to be responsible for that again.

I’m a woman of action now. At least, that’s what I tell myself. And with that brooding thought, I finish rebricking the patio. Now, all the bricks look the same: a dark, steely gray. I can’t wait to get some lights out here, start up the firepit. It’s finally starting to look like a home.

I can’t help but feel like it’s only ever going to be a house to me.

“Hey, AJ—woah!”

I pull my Colt on the voice, even though after it finally processes through my brain that it’s Jack, I put down the gun.

“Jesus. You should know better.”

“I figured you had heard my footsteps. You’re always weird like that.”

“No! I did not hear your footsteps! What do you think I am?”

“Oh, I don’t know, a tracker?” He mocks. “It’s like, two a.m., you know that, right?”

I check my phone. I’ve got four calls from Jack. I never even heard them, and I know it was on sound.

“Sorry, Jack. I must have not been… I wasn’t paying attention. What’s up?” I say, dusting off my hands and heading indoors.

“The patio looks real nice,” he says, following me back inside. “You’ve done a ton of work since I was last here—”

“I’ve had a lot of time off,” I snap, going to the bathroom. He leans on the door as I start to wash my hands of the dirt and grime and dust from the tiling project I realize I started five hours ago. I don’t think I ever stopped.

“ I wanted to tell you, I’m headed out. This one’s a long one.”

“Can I come with you?” I ask, shutting off the faucet as I turn around, still not done. I’m dripping on the floor and I can’t even bring myself to care. “I can talk to Matty.”

“No, no. This one, I’ve gotta do it on my own.”

“Well, still. Let me come with you.”

“I can’t have you gettin’ involved in this too, Thea.”

“Walk, c’mon. My brain is eating itself here.”

“You’re not ready for this kind of commitment,” he answers, and as soon as it’s out of his mouth, he seems to regret it. He knows I’m already getting angry, and this isn’t helping. I turn back to the faucet, and as I go to turn it on, the water starts spurting everywhere. I’m half soaked by the time I can push it off.

“Dammit. This is all going to fucking Chelsea. This… this motherfucking house. I should have never bought it. It’s more trouble than it’s worth!” I throw open the bottom of the sink, dropping to my knees in front of the plumbing. I don’t even know what I’m looking at. I’m about ready to just grab a fucking wrench and beat it to hell.

“Hang on, hang on, Rambo. Don’t go all apeshit,” Jack says. “Let me… let me try to fix it.”  
“Oh, like you thought you fixed things with Mac?” I snap.

“I’m sorry, what the hell are you talkin’ about?” He says, raising up to full height. “You can’t be blaming me for this bullshit.”  
“I’m sure as hell not saying you’re innocent. What the fuck did you say to him? Why the hell did he think he had to leave?”

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about for the last six hours?” Jack says in disbelief. “AJ, you’ve got to get this under control.”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” I cry. He takes a step backward. “What the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to move on! I’m trying to be productive, but what the fuck do you think I can do? He’s gone! He’s gone, and I don’t know how to get him back!”

“I don’t think we’re going to—”

“All of you think he’s not coming back. All of you think we need to move on. You’re all giving up on him. That’s what’s happening. You’re all cowards and—and you’re quitting. You’re quitting, like he did, and I’m not going to quit, Jack. I’m not going to quit. I’m not a quitter. I’m going to find him, and—and bring him home. I’m going to, and you’re not going to stop me.”

I try to step past him, but he holds me back. I swing at him. I can’t even stop myself. He dodges me, he grabs my fist and spins me around until I’m held tight against him like he’s a strait jacket.

“You need to calm down.”

“Fucking make me.”

“I’m tryin’, to, Thea!”

“It’s not working! You’re making this worse, Jack!”

“How the hell am I makin’ this worse?”

“Let me go!” I yell, and the sound is enough to make him stagger and release his grip on me. “You didn’t fight for him, and you didn’t fight for me! Him leaving… it affected me just as much as it affected him. As much as it affected you! I should have… I should have told him to stay. I should have told him he couldn’t leave, Walk. I let him go. I told him I wasn’t going to stop him. This was all my fault. I should have… I should have begged him to stay. He wanted me to fight for him, Walk. I should have fought for him! He wanted… he wanted me to fight for it. He did. I told him it wasn’t my decision. If I could just… I want to go back and tell him to stay, Walker. This is all my fault—”

“None of this is your fault,” he says immediately. “This is James MacGyver’s fault. All of this sits with him, and you know it.”

“He told me not to wait for him,” I say, the tears running freely down my face now. I didn’t realize I was crying. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

“I don’t think he’s comin’ back.”

The confirmation is enough to make me sink into the hardwood. Jack pulls me back to my feet, pulling me into a tight hug, tighter than he had before, but this time, I sink into his embrace.

He tells me to get changed, and he fixes the faucet. I sit in front of the darkened fireplace, where Mac stood, until there’s a knock on the door. Jack deals with the police that have arrived, coming for a noise complaint. I hear him talk about losing someone. It won’t happen again.

No, it won’t, I realize. It’s not going to happen again. It’s time to harden my heart once more, to make sure no one else could get in. I’ve let too many in this time. I’m not willing to let it break again.

I see the photo frame sitting on the mantle. It’s the one Riley gave me: the photo of Mac and I at Disney, the frame decorated with paper clips. I consider destroying it for a moment. It seems like a great idea, sure, but the regret already churns in my stomach.

I settle instead on turning it face down.


	5. Sandraudiga: She Who Dyes the Sand Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ decides to let her anger fuel her as she heads back out with Samantha Cage. But after an attempt to seduce her fails, instead they lead to AJ’s true fear: losing her sense of home. Regardless, it may not matter to her, as she continues to shed blood— both her enemies’ and her own.

_Hotel Ritz, Lisbon, Portugal _

**Mid-June**

I put the final touches on my lipstick. It’s so much darker than I’m used to, but I’m leaning into it.

This time, I know I just need to look dangerous, and I’ve done this enough times to know what my strengths are. The dress I pulled out of our costume room fit my mood perfectly: all black, no embellishments or lace. Slight A-line, deep sweetheart neckline, with off the shoulder sleeves and little straps to my shoulders. When I finish pinning my curls away from my face, I admire my dark smoky eye and lipstick in oxblood.

Sam appears in the exact opposite from me: a tightly fitted dress with a slit up to her thigh, halter top, entirely crisscrossed in silver sequins. Every time she moves, she catches the light. Her lipstick shimmers almost as much as she does, a ruby red.

I made a decision. I made a decision I can’t let him be in the forefront of my mind anymore. If he can’t spare any time for me, I’m done lingering on his memory. 

“What’s the plan?” She murmurs, touching up the corner of her lips in the mirror.

“This new terrorist cell—”

“The one suspected to be led by Kovacs?” She interjects.

“Yes, the very same. They have infiltrated a gallery opening gala downstairs.”

Sam finishes hooking on her ankle straps. “By infiltrated, you mean they’ve taken over, and are using the sale of _The Concert _by Johannes Vermeer to fund their newest initiatives.”

“I still can’t believe they’ve got the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum paintings,” I mutter, moving to the bed to finish strapping my gun to my thigh.

“What, is it a sore spot for you?”

“I remember it. I was very interested in current events at the time.”

“Always a precocious child, weren’t you?”

“In certain ways, I expect,” I say, giving her a wink.

I can’t even bring myself to be sorry. Fraternizing with her co-workers or not, it felt good to flirt. And Sam knows me well enough to know that she can either act on it or not.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of mission?” She asks, straightening my hair over my shoulders. I can’t help but dart my eyes from her lips and back again.

“You’re very distracting.”  
“Shh,” she says, putting a finger to her lips. “Don’t spoil the mission. For the first time, you’re actually in one piece. I would like to enjoy it a little.”

I slip my butterfly knife into my dress before following her out of the room. It’s been a while since I’ve been this optimistic.

* * *

We make it back to the suite, just barely out of breath as we slide the door shut and make sure it’s locked.

“_Are you clear?” _Matty says.

“We are clear,” I confirm. “Exfil in the morning?”

I find myself glancing at Sam. Her typically frizzy hair frames her face, and her smirk just falls a little when we make eye contact.

_“Exfil at 0700. I would suggest not leaving your room between now and then,”_ Matty says. _“Going dark on comms. Riley will be covering the night shift if you need any further assistance.”_

I tap on my ear, turning off our comms, letting out the final breath I had sitting in my chest.

“You’re fun to work with when we’re not running for lives, you know,” Sam says, using her back to push open the second set of blue double doors.

I slip past her, kicking off my shoes as I go. “So, Samantha, what are we going to do for the next nine hours? Because I could think of a number of things that I would love to do with you.”  
She raises her eyebrow at me, shutting the doors behind her. “We’re supposed to be laying low, Harper.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying.”

I step towards her, letting the intoxicating feeling of completing another mission wash over me and the carnal need for a bit of darkness rise up in my throat. She doesn’t make any indication of moving away from me, and I don’t think she wants to.

Before I realize what I’m doing, before I can make any decisions, I pull her into me, I pull her ruby red lips into mine, and my hands intertwine with her hair. But I’m not in control long: she spins me, pushing me against the doors, causing me to nearly rise up on my tip toes to reach her.

But just as soon as it starts, she pulls away, a swatch of my oxblood mixing with her red.

“We can’t do this,” she murmurs, her fingertips tracing along my jaw.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because you’re still in love with MacGyver, and I’m not a rebound girl.”

I lower back down on my feet, but I keep my fingertips on her collarbone. I feel like I deflate. “Then why did you kiss me like that?”

Very lightly, like she doesn’t want to let me go, she kisses me, almost chaste, one last time. With that, she draws from me, slipping off her shoes and heading towards the king bed. 

“I’m not perfect,” she finally says, bouncing on the duvet and picking up the room phone. I head into the bathroom and start taking off my makeup as I hear Sam ordering an exceptional amount of food and then a moderately priced white wine. When she hangs up, she appears behind me in the mirror, leaning against the door frame as I pull the pins out of my hair.

“He’s not coming back, you know,” I say, looking at her through the mirror. Her reflection raises an eyebrow at me.

“I know.”  
“Then I don’t know why there’s a problem. He’s moved on.”

“You haven’t.”

“That’s not the question.”

“It’s definitely an answer.”  
“Why do you always have to be so damn cryptic?” I say, dropping my hands.

“Because you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“That’s not a good answer at all.”

Sam just gives me a knowing smile, pulling herself from the door frame and unzipping her dress as she steps away. Once my hair is out and my makeup is gone, I shower, and change.

“For months, he was gone,” I start, sitting down on the bed. Sam has already gotten our food, and the decadent cart it had come in on now sits in the center of the room. She pops the wine bottle deftly and pours a liberal amount into a wine glass before handing it to me. “For months, he just left. It’s like whatever I meant to him before, it meant nothing now. I thought I had it under control. But all I feel is… angry. I’m just angry. I thought I would feel better as I worked, but I don’t know anymore. It just feels like I have a rage building and nothing is going to stop it,” I say, pausing to take a long drink of my wine. She just sits on the bed, legs tucked under her, cradling her own glass of wine as I speak.

“Slipping into a rage or slipping into bed with someone isn’t going to give you peace,” she says. “As much as I would love to be either of those choices for you.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m always here for you, AJ,” she says, pouring more wine into my drink. “So for now, let’s celebrate our victory before you have to go home to LA.”

I chuckle, just once. “It’s not home anymore.”

* * *

_Donaustadt, Vienna, Austria_

**Late June**

I continue tailing the high security convoy ahead. Not that it was typical at all for anyone from Phoenix to be a diplomatic escort, but with all the shit that’s been going down in Europe lately, she thought it best that I tag along.

Almost another month has gone by. No one has heard from MacGyver at all. I can’t say I’m that surprised.

I’ve finally grown cold to the notion of him coming back. It’s been so long since any of us have heard from him, it really surprises me that he could be so… emotionless. I guess I never really knew him at all.

We continue along the B8. I don’t see anything wrong, nor do I really expect anything to go wrong, which is exactly why my anxiety is through the roof.

The Archbishop of Lyon, Archbishop of Vienna, and the Apostolic Nuncio to Croatia were all warned about the unrest in the region, but they still felt it necessary to have their meeting.

_“You’re quiet,”_ Sam says, nearly making me jolt from the sound on my comms. But it’s nice. It’s nice to hear her slight accent, pulling me from the boredom. 

“Are you not concerned about this?” I ask, leaning comfortably into the driver’s seat. Even in the bright sunlight and the busy streets of Vienna, I can only find the darkness. Maybe that’s my problem. I can only see the shit in the world anymore.

_“We’ve scanned any radio frequencies, and we’re not finding anything,”_ she says. “_Short of them being mobile, or coming in with a broad attack, we don’t have any further intel on whether they’re actually going to be targeted._”

“Matty had a hunch, so we’re following it,” I say. The Reichsbrücke is ahead—the weakest point in the entire route through Vienna. “I don’t like this bridge. I don’t like it.”

_“I know. You continue to remind me that you don’t like the bridge, but unfortunately, it’s the best route to their location. Where are you?”_

“Three car lengths behind the last SUV.” I still have eyes on her blue sedan at the front of the convoy. As we travel, much slower than the traffic is used to, I glance over the bridge to the water below. I had done the research. Almost three thousand feet across the Danube. 26 feet off the river. Nine to twelve feet of water.

We just have to make it to St. Stephen’s Cathedral. About four kilometers left.

“_Have you spoken to Mac?_”

“You know he left.”

“_That wasn’t my question.”_

“I know it wasn’t.”

Sam doesn’t even respond. She just lets out a little sigh again.

I can see the cathedral from the top point of the bridge. I do this, I can come home for a few days. I need to get out of this continent. It’s exhausting. I feel like every assignment is a side quest in a video game.

I wonder what Mac’s doing right now. I wonder if he ever thinks about the people he left behind.

At first, I think it’s just a stupid Austrian driver. I look up and see a truck skidding across the lanes of traffic. I don’t like this immediately. We should have blocked off the bridge to all traffic as the convoy came through.

I immediately chamber a bullet in my gun and ready my weapon.

“Something’s goin’ down,” I say into my comms.

As soon as I say it, the gunfire starts. I duck down, and the glass of my windshield shatters. I push the door open, using it to shield myself from the oncoming fire.

“_Status report!”_ Matty calls over comms.

The perps are too far from me, so I plan a trajectory. They don’t know I’m armed. They don’t need to know until it’s too late. I have to get to the head of the convoy. I peek over my now broken window and see the path: behind the angled car in front of me, to the rear of the SUV in front of them, and then to the cop car, signifying the end of the group.

_“Uhh—I’m under heavy fire, Matty, a little busy!”_

Behind the car, behind the SUV, to the cop car. I open the driver’s side door and check the man’s pulse. He’s dead. Gunshot through the head.

So I start returning fire. They’re mobilizing. They’re working on something. I pause, watching as the individual stops to return fire. They can’t. I hit them right between the eyes.

They drop, and so do I, because the cacophony of bullets come screaming towards me.

“_Careful of the crossfire!” _Sam says. “I’m at your ten o’clock!”

I quickly look, and she’s eased out behind one of the terrorist vehicles, taking shots at them from behind.

I know the police car won’t hold, and they’re not shooting at the trio of black SUVs. Why?! 

I realize what they’re going to do the same time Matty does.

_“Get to the archbishops—”_ Matty orders.

“Sam, get to the convoy, now!” I cry, reloading. “They’re gonna take the archbishops—I’ll lay down cover fire!”

Immediately I see her blonde hair sweep from her position, and she appears again at the first SUV. She secures the first one, but the other two are in SUVs behind, which are pinned down by terrorists.

I see it before I hear it, because my ears immediately start ringing from the explosion. The middle point of the bridge shifts, cracks upward, like something large was punching it from below. The fire and smoke cascade through the cracks.

I hit the deck. I don’t have much of a choice.

Jesus Christ, they’re taking out the bridge. It’s a suicide bombing. Whoever was shooting at me is long gone. As soon as my hearing starts to come back, the entire road shifts.

The entire bridge is going to collapse.

“_Oh, my God.”_ I hear over the comms, although it’s muffled.

“Are you clear, Sam?”

_“Yes, but the others aren’t—are you clear?”_

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to answer.

I struggle to my feet, but the entire structure shudders. I don’t know how much time we have. I don’t know what else I can do. The screeching of iron breaking and the echo of shattering concrete explode into the air. About thirty feet to drop, then there’s the water. I feel my breath catch. This scares me more than anything I’ve faced yet.

This is the chaos I can’t control.

The bridge starts to collapse around the blast site, and it’s entirely too close to the convoy.

Without another thought, I start running towards the growing hole. One, two, on the third step, and launch myself over the open space, and tuck and roll on the other side.

“AJ!” Sam cries out, and I see her, about forty feet away, pushing the archbishop to safety with one of the remaining police.

I pull on the door to the nearest black SUV, but it’s locked—

“Open your door!” I cry, and eventually the driver complies, nodding vigorously when he realizes I’m not masked like the cowards attacking them. Ignoring the bullet holes in the body of the vehicle, I immediately pull the archbishop out—probably a bit rougher than he’d like, and he and his crew start running towards Sam and safety.

The bridge lets out a deafening roar.

The last SUV sits between Sam and I, but I don’t think either of us is going to make it. I turn. I look at the debris, the shrapnel that I expect to get turned into projectiles once this bridge collapses.

The screaming becomes unbearable. The entire bridge is going to disintegrate. I glance to the side. I’m already making the calculations. I make eye contact with Sam, who has made it nearly to the other side. Nearer to safety.

I can see her mouth move as I peer at her. “_I swear to God, AJ, don’t you dare.”_

Matty comes through once again. _“Is she going to do what I think she is—”_

Without a second thought, I start running towards the edge of the bridge. In fact, even as I’m in the air, I don’t have a second thought. It’s really quite unnerving. I just hope there’s enough water waiting for us at the bottom.

Would it really be so bad?

As I dive into the water, something crashes into me. It’s as I expected; I lose some of my air as I crash into the Danube, but with as much energy as I can muster, I swim upwards and break the water.

I have to face it. I’ve seen something like this in those horror movies Mac always made me watch. It’s like a disaster orchestrated by Death himself and I can only hold on.

The entire south side of the bridge is in shambles. Girders, metal braces, concrete… part of the bridge hangs off itself. Shards of metal and concrete slide off the hanging road making horrible splashes into the water.

I can barely tread water. My left arm hangs limply, and I know it’s broken, but I need it to tread water. I got myself out, but what do I even do? I have to check the convoy, but I don’t know where they were. I don’t know how many people are in the water—50,000 vehicles per day, I remember.

I start coughing. Every breath rewards me with sharp pain, and my arm throbs as I try to stay afloat. I’ve got to find the convoy. Already exhaustion skirts my vision, but I shake my head to try to clear it. Stay focused.

I swim towards the metal and the waterlogged vehicles. There’s got to be a way to find them—

Static. _“AJ? – hear me? – hurt?”_

“I’m… I’m fine,” is about all I can muster as I try to swim. I spot a black SUV with tinted windows still struggling to stay afloat. I swim like hell. I swim through the sharp pain. I swim until I get to the vehicle—the window is down, the car is nearly sideways, but I still see people inside.

“Your—Your Grace—can you—”

I hear him call out in German. I’m too exhausted to even try to translate my basic high school knowledge. All I know is that the car is filling up with water, and it’s getting more and more cockeyed. I’m getting weaker, but I push through. I have to push through.

“You need to come through the window.”

“How?!”

I reach inside. “I’ll pull you out.”

He grasps my hand, and I do my best to haul him out through the tight window. I think someone’s conscious still inside and gives him a boost. The entire car shifts. There’s a cry from inside:

“Go! Go now!”

The Archbishop treads water. I know he’s the Austrian one, so I know he’s a decent swimmer from his file. Focus. Don’t think about the steel stabbing the water. Avoid the sinking cars and get him to safety.

I swim for the bank, thanking God that the river barges had left on their afternoon cruises. We have a straight shot to the retaining wall. I help hoist him onto the side. He says something in German to me, but I don’t know what he’s saying. I clutch onto the side for a moment. My breathing is patchy, irregular. I ignore it.

I turn and look at the bridge again, and I know I shouldn’t have. I’ve seen blood. I’ve almost died numerous times. I’ve seen bombs go off in crowded squares. This… this is a catastrophic failure. We should have seen this coming. Why couldn’t we have seen this coming?

But I hear the screams. I hear the screams next, and without thinking, I’m swimming in the depths of Hell once more. I’m exhausted, sure, but who gives a shit?

The nearest people I see are a family, so I head for them first. The kid is treading water, sure, but she keeps going under. It doesn’t help that the mother is just screaming. I loop my broken arm around the kid’s waist and head for shore, hoping that the parents aren’t far behind.

I do it again. As people make it out of their submerged cars, I find an elderly couple. They make it to shore. I try again and again until I’m spent.

Grasping a piece of sinking rebar to catch my breath, I can see at the bank, about twenty feet off, Sam had made it to my location. She’s already trying to do triage. I think she spots me in the water. The darkness keeps shifting around my peripheral vision. I try to blink it away. I know this feeling, and I’m unsure of what to do.

I feel my grip slipping and the panicked part of my brain doesn’t even respond. I just know the water’s suddenly cold.

My last coherent thought is: would it really be so bad?

* * *

I think I dream, but I can’t remember it when I suddenly find myself coughing up water. I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t. It’s officially extremely painful. I’ve experienced excruciating pain before, but this is just exacerbated by the overwhelming panic of not being able to breathe.

Sam looks over me, brushing her long, wet hair back.

“How are they—”

Peering around the chaos, she pulls me to my feet, and I grasp her a little tighter than I know I should. She already starts dragging me off, brushing past emergency personnel, past the perimeter, and we start to disappear.

“All three marks survived,” she says. “Five police are dead. All of the terrorists have been killed, but half the bridge collapsed.”

I know I shouldn’t turn around to look. I have a feeling I would turn to a pillar of salt like Lot’s wife.

“It’s a victory, to say the least,” I mutter, and Sam just grimly eyes me.

“Comms are dead, and I know both of our phones are waterlogged, so we’re going to have to find a way to contact Matty for exfil. But she had something to say before I got in the water.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” The exhaustion starts to get the better of me, so Cage lowers me onto the sidewalk and starts breaking into a car.

“She saw the live feed news footage. She watched you jump off the bridge.”

I just chuckle. Good. I’m glad she did.


	6. Tenebrae: The Darknesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ gets her second reprimand from Matty after her fatalistic behavior in Austria. Still, as she tries to heal, she just slips further and further into the darkness— culminating with a conversation with Oversight himself.

_[Classified]_

**The next day**

Matty’s hand rests on the glass after making it frost. The other hand makes its way to her forehead.

“AJ, you have got to get this shit under control.”

“I have to admit I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How do you not see it? You’ve gone completely batshit! First, the El Pariso stampede? You could have died going into that night club on your own! They had tear gas!”

“I was fine,” I harrumph, shrugging.

“Not the point! What about you going a little rogue in Sao Paulo when you found that pocket of the Primeiro Comando da Capital?”

I bristle. That’s the gang that nearly killed Mac and Jack in Rio. I think fondly on that op for a moment, and Matty groans audibly.

“There is no reason for you to be proud of yourself. What you did was out of line.”

“They were going to find me,” I snap.

“You nearly destroyed Luz Station! You know how much damage control I had to do?”

“You had it under control,” I say.

“Not the point! And then Vienna.”

“What do you want me to say about Vienna?” I finally break. “What did you want me to do?”  
“Not jump off the bridge in front of a bunch of cameras! You nearly died! What the hell were you thinking?”

“Uh, I was thinking about trying to get the hell out of Dodge so I could save the last archbishop? I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you’re so bent out of shape about this—”

“It was reckless and it was stupid, AJ. That’s why. You’ve been reckless and stupid since… since—”

“Say it.”

“Since Mac left.”

“There it is. Why do you have it out for me? Why the hell do you think I’m trying so hard? This is all I have left, Matty. This is it. So yeah, I’m going to put my life on the line to make sure the op gets done.”

“And you can kill a few gang members along the way.”

“So be it,” I say. “I don’t care. They were bad people. They deserved it.”

“What about the people that got hurt in the fire? What about those innocents?”

“What about the people I couldn’t save in the Danube? What about those innocents?”

She takes a breath. We both know I’m right. Or at least, I hope she knows I’m right. You know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, and I don’t care. This is all a bunch of bullshit and she knows it.

“AJ, you’re going on medical leave.”

“No, Matty.”

“Just for a few weeks, until your arm heals. You need to let yourself heal.”

I head for the door, my head pounding and my anger seething.

“This is your last warning,” Matty says right before I leave the war room.

Outside, though, I’m accosted by the crew: Riley, Bozer, and Jill all wait, hiding near the stairway. Jack is nowhere to be found.

“What did she say to you?” Bozer starts. “What the hell even happened in Vienna?”

Riley says his name sharply, but he doesn’t back down.

“I don’t know why she’s making such a big deal about it. I made a tactical decision and I stuck with it.”

“Jumping off that bridge wasn’t the best tactical decision,” Jill musters. “You could have easily died. Matty is right.”

“Matty is not right. Matty was not there. Neither were any of you, should I remind you!”

“It’s not our fault Matty has us benched,” Riley tries. “You know why.”

“Yeah. The ‘golden boy’ isn’t here anymore, so none of you are allowed to work. Oh boo, fucking hoo. I’m going to go back to living my life, since he can’t give anyone else the time of day. I’m not going to stop living because he decided to.”

“That’s the thing, Gray, you’re nosediving into some sort of death scenario we can’t help you with—”

“B, enough. I am not apologizing for doing my job. I’m not apologizing for moving forward. This isn’t your problem anymore.”

“It is our problem,” Riley interjects. “We don’t want you to die! We don’t want you to keep coming home from missions with broken arms or- or burns, or coming home half blind from tear gas! You need to get yourself together, or we’re going to have to go retrieve your body from some foreign country!”

Jill finally stops tapping on her tablet and shoves it in my face. I peer at the satellite footage she’s pulled up.

“This is either gonna help you, or it’s gonna make it worse, and I’m willing to give it the 50/50 shot,” she says. “Look.”

I see the grainy video. It’s just good enough for me to know it’s Mac. It looks like he’s got the start of a beard going. I hate it. He’s building something. I don’t know where it is, but it’s somewhere hot and dusty.

“I found him,” she says quietly.

“You found him? Where is he?”

“He’s in Nigeria. Remember that op—”

“The well head, yeah,” I finish.

“He went back to that village. He’s helping them rebuild.”

“Good for them.”

“At least he’s doing something good,” she whispers. “AJ, I don’t know what you want from all of this. I don’t know if you want… retribution, or peace, or what. But we’re just trying to help. He’s… he’s safe, and he’s moving on.”

I watch him wrench on one of the old vehicles they had in the middle of the square in this Nigerian village. When he pops out from underneath to direct the waiting man to get him another tool, he laughs widely at whatever he’s told.

I hand the tablet back to Jill. All I can see is red as I turn around and walk away.

“Well, that backfired,” I hear Bozer say.

* * *

_Foxfire Room, Valley Village, CA_

**Later that day**

It’s still light out when I make it over to the bar I like in Valley Village. Now that I’ve moved out of Marina del Rey, I can’t go to Brennan’s anymore; it would take me an hour through traffic to make it there, and even their cheap bottles of whiskey couldn’t make me go that far.

It’s nice in the quiet. I don’t have to listen to any hipsters, I can just bask in the dark and let myself fall into a nice stupor.

They got a pool table. Wonder when that came in. It’s been about a week since I was here, but I know more than anyone a lot can happen in a week.

The bartender I almost know comes back to me, and he’s learned that by the time I’ve hit my third drink, it’s time to leave the bottle. I fill my own glass and eye the hustler at the new pool table as he plays one of the regulars.

He’s not someone I’ve seen before, but I feel like I know him. It might be the blue plaid shirt he wears, or the slight smirk that parts his lips when he gets the drop on his opponent. Hell, he even pulls a trick shot, nailing the cue ball and making it curve around the other guy’s before dropping the yellow striped #9 in the corner pocket.

There’s something so familiar about him. I don’t know if it’s the lines around his eyes, or the way his hair lays, or just the way he stands, grasping the pool cue like he could think of six ways to use it as a weapon. He glances my way. I see, when he shifts his weight, the outline of a gun on his hip.

Immediately, I straighten. I’m not sure who he is, but I know he has to know I’ve clocked him. The only thing I can think to do is bail, but I know I can’t do that safely. Whatever comes next, I’m going to have to deal with.

Why would someone like him be following me? Am I being paranoid, or is this man here for me—

Something immediately strikes me. It’s not the plaid or the smirk or anything else, it’s the chuckle that echoes through the quiet room.

He sounds exactly like Mac.

When he settles on the stool across the corner from me, calling for the bartender and pocketing his winnings, I feel his eyes boring into me.

“You can hide from him for twenty years, but you sure as hell can’t hide from me,” I say over my whiskey glass.

“Now is that a way to welcome your boss?”

“I shouldn’t be welcoming you to do anything.”

He takes my whiskey bottle and pours himself a glass. I don’t even give him the benefit of a glance. Instead, I finish my own glass and take the bottle back.

“What was it that gave me away?” He whispers, with just the slight bit of humor in his voice. It makes me miss his son a little too much.

“The inflated sense of superiority when you walked into the room.”

“That is two strikes, and I know you can hit me with a third. Don’t disappoint me, Harper.”

I sigh. I’m just exhausted. “Tell me what you want, or I’ll make sure everyone in this building knows you’ve got a gun and you’ll be arrested before I can say ‘fuck you, I quit’.”  
He mimes hitting a ball with a bat, clicking his tongue. “And it’s out of the park.”

“What the hell do you want?” I ask, exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t have the energy for this. I can’t even go to my bar anymore because you just show up. What the hell do you even want?”

This time, he adjusts on the bar stool. He talks a little too long to answer, and I’m afraid what he’s going to say. This is it. This has to be it. I better redo my resume. Either that, or go out in a blaze of glory.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

I’m not even sure how to respond at first. “You’re—you’re sorry? You’re sorry? Really. After everything you’ve done. That’s all you can say.”

“Sorry only starts the conversation—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You of all people know you owe me a hell of a lot more for what you’ve put me through.”

“What I’ve put you through?”

“Patricia Thornton. Her trying her damnedest to get me killed. Her hiding all the letters between your son and I. What about Siberia? You’re the one who put me on that damn mission in the first place! Every time I almost died, you signed the order! Don’t you get it? I owe you nothing! I shouldn’t even give you the time of day, but here you are. Here you are, as my boss and my ex’s dad. Which role are you going to play tonight?”

“Neither,” he says. “Both. Listen, Harper. I just wanted to clear some things up with you. You… I know you’ve been struggling lately.”

“Struggling?” I scoff. “You call this struggling. It’s because of your fuck-ups that I’m in the situation I’m in. Mac would have never left if you told him the truth in the first place.”

“And I’m aware of that,” he says. He downs the rest of his glass. “I’m trying to deal with that. But you… you and Jack were always the closest to him. You and Mac… I never meant for you to get hurt in Siberia. I never meant for you to get hurt on any of your ops, Harper. But did you ever notice that each time one of you needed help, the other was there?”

I finally glance to him. He peers at me, looking… sincere. From all the stories Mac told me about him, I’m not sure this is something that comes naturally to him. I don’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he doesn’t deserve it, but I will grant him time. Just enough time, I decide, as I call up a ride on my phone.

“I made sure Mac was there to come save you,” he sighs. “You… you were always there for him, and I wanted to make sure he was always there for you.”

“But now what?” I say, tossing back my glass of whiskey. I go to pour more. He tries to stop me, but I jerk from his hand. I finish the glass before he speaks again.

“I want him to come home.”

“You don’t think I want him to come home?”

“I don’t think this is helping at all.”

I wave to the bartender to put the bottle on my tab, and he nods. He knows I’m good for it, as I head for the front door. James MacGyver just follows after me as I burst into the California heat. No smokers here today, as the sun goes down, but he still makes the whiskey burn in my throat. I palm my keys. He looks down, and in one fluid motion, he tries to take them from me.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” I hiss, but he pulls me close to him, fighting for my keys.

“You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be driving.”  
“You’ve never cared about me before,” I say. “You talk a big game, Oversight, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe from you.”

“AJ,” he pleads. He still refuses to let go. “AJ, I need you on my side. That’s the only way we’re going to get him back.”

“There’s no we in this. There never was. I’m just another victim to your sanctimonious bullshit.”

I look for the car that’s supposed to pick me up, but they’re not quite here yet. I’m afraid this is going to mount into something I can’t turn back from—

“He’s got a new girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s got a new girlfriend. In Nigeria. We saw it on the surveillance. He may have moved on, but I know you haven’t. Help me bring him home.”

Before I’m even thinking about it, before it slips through the recognition processes of my brain, I realize I’m rearing back and punching my boss in the face. He reels, his palm hits the wall of the bar as he catches himself, and I shake out my hand.

“You’re a bastard. You really think you could have used _that_ to make me work with you? For a smart guy, you’re a dumbass.”

I start walking away. I know I’m not going to have a job in the morning, but directly assaulting the reason Mac up and left is rewarding.


	7. Shiva: Annihilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With AJ on mandatory medical leave, it only gives her more time to consider all the rage she’s suppressed. Still, Jill does her best to satiate that growing beast, until Mac makes his return to Phoenix, triggering a set of events that lead to their team’s emotional annihilation.

_Studio City, CA_

**Early July**

“_I’m sorry, you did what_?”

“I didn’t stutter,” I say loudly over the speakerphone. The phone call makes a bit hard to lay my wood floors in my new bedroom, but the real problem was the cast and sling. Still, I continued to power through as I explained to Sam what happened. “After Austria, I was put on medical leave, and Mac’s dad—Oversight—tracked me down to talk to me.”

“_What did you do_?” She asks.

“He tried to apologize to me,” I scoff. “For all the shit he had put me through. For all the shit with Mac. He wanted me on his side, he said. I don’t trust him. I don’t know if I ever can.”

“_Would it make you quit?”_

“He’s not my dad,” I admit. “He’s just my boss.”

“_He’s also your long-term boyfriend’s dad, and you never knew_.”

“Sam, I don’t have a lot of options. And he was.”

“_Work for another organization,”_ she offers. “_Move to Australia. I can get you a position here.”_

I just shake my head. “You know I can’t. I’ve put in too much time here, and I just… I just…”

“_You just hope Mac will come back_.”

“He’s got to come back, Sam. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he doesn’t.”

“_And there it is.”_

“Stop interrogating me.”

“_I’m not interrogating you_,” she says. “_You’re the one talking. I’m not even asking questions_.”

“I hate you.”

“_I know. Get back to the part where you punched your boss in the face and didn’t get fired.”_

“He deserved it,” I say.

“_I don’t doubt that, but he didn’t fire you_?!”

“No? Not yet, at least.”

“_He must be more desperate than I thought_,” she whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“_If he’s not willing to terminate your contract after you physically assaulted him, he must feel completely responsible for what happened between you and Mac. He’s not going to let you go if he felt your actions were justified_. _He’s a smart man, AJ. He won’t let you go if he thinks you’re right._“

“That’s a comforting way to put it,” I say. “I just wish… I wish I had the ability to finally… to finally get some sort of ending.”

“_Vengeance isn’t going to give you peace_,” she says. “_It’s only going to lead to more and more bloodshed_.”

“What if I want the bloodshed?”

She’s quiet for a long time. I lean back on my feet, wiping the sweat from my head. I know what I have to do, and I’m going to need her help to do it. Matty isn’t going to play, that’s for sure. Sam’s my last-ditch effort.

“Remember the guy we were hunting in Istanbul?”

“_The one who tortured you in Siberia_?”

“The very same. You think… you think you could find him for me? Off the books.”

“_If that’s what you want_,” she says quietly. “_I’ll do it_._ But you have to promise to be careful.”_

“I’m always careful, Samantha.”

_“You always use my full name when you lie.”_

* * *

_The Broad Art Museum, LA_

**Mid July**

I don’t know how, but I somehow manage to just get on probation. The next mistake is my last, Matty said. That’s fine. The next mistake I make, I’ll be dead.

I think Jill just did this to apologize. She knew that showing me that video was a 50/50 shot, and it backfired. I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s her fault that I hauled out and punched Oversight. But it wasn’t, and I wish I could tell her that, but I don’t want to bring it up today.

She had decided to take us to the Broad Art Museum. I had never been here, and it’s not quite my style, but that’s fine. She wanted to go, so I went along with her.

“Em didn’t want to come to this, so I’m glad you agreed,” Jill says, linking her arm with mine. “And she’s gone on a business trip, so I made sure it was fine with her. She is not upset you took one for the team, you know.”

“Emily actually likes me?” I ask, giving Jill a grin. “Isn’t that weird for her?”

“She’s just… she’s quiet, okay? She doesn’t always like…”

“Large groups of people? Doing things?” While I do like Jill's girlfriend, I know it's hard sometimes. I'm not sure how much Emily knows about Jill's job. It's a toss up, really. 

“It works for us,” Jill chides.

We move a little further up in the line. I’m not sure exactly what it is that we’re seeing, but it’s something Jill keeps calling ‘mindblowing’. I’ve seen enough mindblowing things to know that it might not be as cool as she thinks it is, but the look on her face is good enough for me. I think I owe it to her, after everything that went down.

Besides, I’m both on medical leave and probation. I should probably keep at least someone on my good side.

I haven’t heard from Jack, Bozer, or Riley since the emotional explosion. Even Leanna has been off the grid. Jill is the only one that’s kept me in the loop.

Jill’s been the only one constantly at my side through all of this. I’m not surprised. That’s just her style. She’s always good and patient and kind.

She goes first, stepping inside the small box. I get a slight image of the room as she goes in, but I’m sure it’s nothing of what I’m about to experience.

Forty-five seconds. That’s all the length of time we’re allowed in the exhibit. I’m sure it’s some weird artist thing. It seems to pass so quickly and Jill is already coming out, her face lit up like a firework.

“Just wait until you see it, AJ,” She whispers, slipping past me to wait for me to step out.

I step inside. The room is small, but not claustrophobic. The effect is jarring: the entire room, filled with mirrors, reflects every bit of light. There has to be thousands of little bits of colored light. I turn around, and it’s everywhere. All I see is the reflection of myself, in every single one of the mirrors.

I don’t remember where the door was. I can’t see it anymore. All I can see is light, perpetually, against a sky of black. Every colored light eventually disappears, looking like a star off in the distance.

_The Souls of Millions Light Years Away. _I’m not usually good at modern art, but this one, this one makes sense.

The lights seem to move and dance as they strobe just enough to cause a hallucinatory effect.

I take a breath, and I can’t let it go. It catches in my throat. Is this what death feels like? Is this what it’s going to feel like to die? I wouldn’t necessarily turn it down. But I know what it for sure feels like: this is me. This is me, floating in a vast sea of nothingness. Nothingness and hatred and nothing. It’s never going to change, not unless I do.

But God. God, it’s so lonely. It’s so lonely and terrifying. Even as the light grows to a horizon, it grows together. I feel like I’m just one of the lonely light bulbs, hanging from the ceiling. I touch one. It moves, and a million billion reflected lights shudder in the distance as they strobe.

I’ve never felt like I was a part of anything. I never really belonged anywhere. Maybe that’s stupid. I may feel like a light, hanging alone from the ceiling. But everything I do causes everything to shake and shift and react in the distance.

Even still, I’m sure with a twist of my wrist, that little light could go out, and would it really matter?

I’m not looking at the universe anymore. I’m looking at an exploding star. At a bomb, frozen. At complete destruction.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath this entire time.

And then the door opens.

And I step out.

I’m walking down the museum hall with Jill, my heart still pounding, until she finally speaks.

“Did you like it?”

“I… I don’t know. It felt like a Rorschach Test. ‘What do you see?’”

“Well, AJ? What did you see?”

I keep walking down the hall. I don’t know if I want to stop. It comes to my lips, unknown to me until I hear it myself.

“Annihilation.”

* * *

_[Classified] _

**Several days later**

I head into Phoenix, mainly to check in with Matty to see if my probation had been lifted yet. Sure, my arm hadn’t been healed, but I had to make sure. This radio silence was bothering me.

In fact, I hadn’t heard from anyone today. I usually at least get a ‘good morning’ text from Bozer, so if he hasn’t contacted me, something’s up.

I head through the main hallway and almost immediately run into Matty and Oversight. I expect him to put his hands on his hips, to go defensive when he sees me, but it seems to be the exact opposite. I admire the traces of a yellow bruise around his eye for a moment. In fact, he looks shocked. He looks frightened.

Matty speaks up first. “AJ. What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I wanted to find you two to discuss my probationary period.”

“Not… not now,” he says. “Maybe… maybe you should come back another day. We can make an appointment.”

I squint, eyeing the two of them. “What’s going on? Why are you both being so sketchy? Where’s the crew? I thought they were grounded.”

“They were,” he says cryptically, glancing to Matty.

I squint at him and start down the hallway. Matty calls after me, so I turn around, walking backwards.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“You’re both professional liars. Get your shit together. I know they’ve gone on an op, and from the looks on your faces, they should be back soon. So, I’m headed to meet them at the airstrip, since I can’t get a straight story out of you.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Harps—” he begins.

“Don’t call me that,” I immediately snap. A few employees eye me in fear. “You haven’t earned that right.”

Throwing open the back doors, I peer out to the airstrip. The late afternoon heat makes the tarmac look wavy. I lean against the glass doors into the main building until I see the plane landing.

Why the hell would they not tell the truth? Why couldn’t they share with me what was going on?

The plane lands, and Jack’s the first one off. His face shifts from happy to complete fear.

“Thea, the hell are you doing here?”

Not quite the answer I was looking for, but I’m going to play dumb. That’s the only way I can get anything out of him. “Walker! Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story and we’re gonna have to talk about it over a lot of alcohol. What happened to your arm?”

“I gather that. Another long story. Why is everyone being so shady?”

Riley, Bozer, and Leanna step out behind Jack as he comes down the stairs, and each one looks more and more terrified.

“Is everyone okay? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s best if you just go inside,” Jack says. He’s pleading. He’s not doing it well.

And with that, I realize what has happened. It takes about two seconds for the last person to get off the plane.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now. I can’t believe he would come back like this. And no one told me? This is the last straw. This is the turning point, I realize.

I let the tears run down my face. Honestly, it’s not fair I can’t control it at this point. I would think I could. It’s just still too raw. I had tried my hardest to let him go like he let me go, but it was just too much harder for me.

But he looks good. He looks so damn good. His hair had gotten long. That lock of blond falls over his eyes like it did after Siberia. His face is almost as heartbroken.

He makes it down the stairs, and I find myself just shaking my head. I turn around and head inside. That’s why they didn’t want to say anything. They all knew Mac was on his way back. But why? Why the hell wouldn’t they tell me?

Of course, they know. They know I would do exactly what I’m doing.

I almost run into Jill as she heads out. She holds me at arms’ length when I finally struggle to regain whatever sense I have.

“Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Mac. He’s back.”

Her expression shifts.

“Of course, you knew. Did everyone know but me?”

“Jack was in trouble,” She tries. “We saw him on security footage working with a terrorist. We couldn’t send you, AJ. You were out for medical leave, and no one knows Jack as well as you and Mac—”

“They could have sent me!” I cry. People are looking, I know, but I can’t bring myself to care. “I would have gone! I don’t care if I’m on medical leave! Why the hell did they have to go looking for him? I thought he didn’t want to come back. I thought he was gone. I thought no one was going to find him—”

“Oversight went after him,” Jill explains. I don’t even know why she would know. Why the hell—

I start to hyperventilate. I know it, because my head starts to float. Jill tries to calm me down. I just shake my head. “No. No, you’re just as complicit in this as the rest of them.”

“We were focused on saving Jack! I didn’t have time to inform you—”

“Inform me? What am I, just a coworker to you now?” I drop my voice low. “Jill, you’ve been one of the only reasons I’ve lived through this! And now you’re lying to me, too? Maybe the wrong person quit Phoenix. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel. I can’t trust any of you.”

She tries to plead with me, but I cut her off before she can even speak.

“No. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel any better. There’s nothing you can do, Jill. You’ve all done enough. You’ve all put him before me. You’ve all exhausted my patience.”

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you!” She finally gets out.

“You didn’t protect me! You made it worse! A real friend would have let me hurt! None of you fought for me! You all fought for him!”

“AJ, I was just trying to help. I’m always trying to help—”

She tries to put her arm around me, but I push her off. “You need to leave me alone. Just leave me alone.”

I go anywhere but there. She doesn’t follow me. In fact, the best place I can find to lie low is the armory. No one can find me there. I doubt any of them except Jack knows where it is.

I just let myself cry. I can’t believe his back. What happened in Nigeria? What happened to his new girlfriend? What the hell was Jack into that made him come back?

Why didn’t anything else make him come back? I tried a thousand different ways, at least. What thing made him come back, and why wasn’t it me?

I let myself cry. It doesn’t take long, but eventually the heavy armory door opens and I hear a voice. I hear Leanna’s voice.

“Hey, AJ?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but Matty sent me to get you.”

I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “I politely decline.”

“She figured you would.”

“I’m not coming down.”

“He left.”

“What?”

“He’s already headed back to Nigeria.”

I stand up, and she doesn’t make a move to help me. In fact, she takes a step backward. Smart girl.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

This is what I always liked about Leanna: she’s not going to sugar coat it, she’s not going to give me more than I need. I don’t know if I would consider her a friend, but she’s sure as hell not an enemy.

I step into the war room. Both Matty and Oversight linger. I’m nearly shaking by the time Matty starts to speak.

“AJ, we think it’s time to talk to you about taking some extended leave—”

“No. No, Matty. This is the only thing I have left, and you know it. Please don’t do this.”

“You’re out of control,” he murmurs. “Jack and Bozer say you’re not sleeping. You’re prone to emotional outbursts—”

“You’re exhibiting depressive symptoms,” Matty continues.

“This sounds like a fucking intervention,” I say, my voice wavering. “What the hell do you want me to do? Sit at home all day? Wait for you two to tell me I’m fit to work again? The hell are your qualifications again? I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re jumping off of bridges! You’re setting fire to buildings you’re still inside! You’re cutting off your friendships one by one!” Oversight says, stepping around me to shut the door. He frosts the windows on the way.

“I’m doing my Goddamn job!” I cry. “What do you want me to do? Tiptoe around the subject like everyone else? Yeah! I’m fucking pissed that Mac just up and left! I’m pissed none of you told me he was back! I don’t feel like I can trust anyone!”

“And trust is the most important part of this job,” he says. It’s almost hollow. I wonder why.

“You’re the one who should be talking.”

“Don’t you think you’ve gotten enough hits on me lately?” He draws to full height. Matty tries to speak, but she opens her mouth and closes it, knowing it’s futile.

“Step into the ring and we can see.” He’s got almost a foot on me, I don’t care.

“I’m still your boss, or have you forgotten that?”

“I could take you with a broken arm.”

Matty finally cuts in. “Stop it, you two! Jesus, you’re too much alike!”

“Us two?” I scoff. “No. I wouldn’t run from something like Oversight does.”

“I wouldn’t have an emotional breakdown in my office’s hallway.”

“Both of you, stop!” Matty says. She taps her tablet and an audio wave comes up on the screen.

“_Matty! Matty, you need to trace Jill’s location now!”_

Mac’s frantic voice comes through on the speakers. She snaps her fingers at Oversight, and he grabs the tablet, typing away.

“What happened?”

“_Murdoc. Murdoc happened. I think—you need to send a medical team there right now!”_

He’s out of breath. He’s not making sense.

“Griffith Park Drive,” Oversight says. “Close to the head of Toyon Trail.”

I run out of the room, out of the building, and onto my bike before anyone can stop me.

It doesn’t take me long going at top speed, and while I almost crash at one of the final turns of the road, I find it immediately.

It’s complete decimation. Her car is shattered. I throw off my helmet and I don’t even see where it goes as I run towards the car and throw open the passenger door.

“Jill, God, please be alive. Jill? Jill—”

She must have swerved. She swerved and hit the bridge. The impact and the speed she was going—she slammed into the steering wheel and the instrument panel.

“Please don’t be gone. Please don’t be dead. Not after today. Not… not after today,” I hear myself murmuring. I feel like I’m outside my body. I check her wrist. It’s bloody from where the instrument panel shattered on impact.

I hold my breath to count. There’s a heartbeat, but it’s faint. I don’t want to move her. I can’t move her, because her neck might be injured—

“Jill! Jill, please wake up. Jill, can you hear me?”

I feel like I scream her name for days until her eyelids flutter open. Blood courses down her forehead. I don’t know what else to do to secure her, but she lifts her head from the steering wheel.

“Murdoc. It… AJ, you’re… you’re here?”

I can’t help but laugh as the tears roll down my face. “Thank God. Jill. I thought… I thought you were gone.”

I finally hear the sirens.

She smiles a little, but she’s wounded badly and she’s fading. I nearly draw out of the car to try to find the emergency vehicles, but her hand, weakly on my arm, leaves a trail of blood on my cast.

“It was Murdoc,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m sorry, I should…”

“This isn’t your fault,” I say. “You can’t blame yourself for this. This isn’t your fault, Jill. None of this is your fault. I need you to remember that.”

“It’s not your fault, either.”

“I know it’s not—”

“Not this. It’s not your fault, AJ.”

The chaos erupts around me, but everything moves like there’s comm trails. It’s slow motion. Someone tries to pull me to my feet, but my knees buckle. I can’t hear anything. I just watch as they try to pull Jill from the car. They’ve checked her vitals. They’re moving fast, but I don’t feel like it’s fast enough.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her, too.

I see Matty. I see Matty and Oversight and Mac arrive, and they arrive together. I’m the one that’s out of place.

I’ve always been out of place.

Matty is yelling at someone, but I know it’s not me. Someone behind me. I don’t know what she’s threatening. I can’t even hear her. I can’t see anyone in my peripheral. The tunnel vision threatens me again.

She tries to talk to me. I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anyone. I can only hear my own terror. It’s like the static on a television. The place between two radio stations.

We get in the car, and we follow the ambulance. They have to save her. I can’t lose her too.

By the time we get to St. Angelina, to the emergency department waiting room, the familiar feeling begins. That sinking feeling of waiting, of watching, of complete and utter terror. Jack, Bozer, Leanna, and Riley arrive, not far behind, but Mac was nowhere to be found.

I look down. My hands are shaking. I try to hide it, but I know Oversight sees, and it’s just one more reason to tell me to go.

But she was talking. She was talking to me when I got there. She should be stable. She can make it through this.

I feel myself turn to Matty. I don’t think I’m in control of my body anymore. “This… this is insane. How did we not know? How did we not know he was in the country? How did we miss that? What were we doing that we didn’t know? Did we have intel? Why didn’t we go after him?”

“We didn’t have the manpower—” She tries.

“Didn’t… didn’t have the manpower?! Didn’t have… you have me!” I cry. “I could have gone after him!”

“And look what happened last time you went after him!” Jack says. “You nearly died! You nearly died in Siberia, and you nearly died in Istanbul! You’re not gonna take that chance again!”

“You’re not the one who is going to decide that for me,” I say. “I’ll decide, not you. So what if I go down? At least I’ll be doing something about it!”

“And what good would that do?” Matty interjects. She’s calm. Too calm. “You dying is never part of the plan.”

“What about Jill dying? Is that part of the plan?”

“She was just doing her job!” Matty snaps.

“And so will I,” I say. “Let me know when she’s out of surgery.”

I start towards the door, ready to find and take on Murdoc myself, but Oversight steps between me and the automatic sensor.

“This is neither the time nor place for this, and you know it.”

“Step aside.”

“I’ll give the orders, Harper.”

“Step. Aside.”

“Stand down, Sergeant!”

I waver. I feel the immediate need to fall into parade rest, and it’s like a coat on a cold day, the intuitive need to follow the order given to me. I feel like I shake out of the stupor for a moment as I step away from him, moving to the other side of the waiting room.

Mac opens the door. He’s holding my motorcycle helmet. The vibe is enough to make him look around the room and then almost step back out the door.

He goes and whispers something to Matty, but I can’t hear them over the heartbeat in my ears. With each beat, my eyes slip further and further into a rage-fueled tunnel vision.

“The hell is going on?” Mac says, but he sounds like he’s in an echo chamber.

“AJ is finally having the breakdown she needed to have two months ago,” Oversight snaps.

I glare at him, but I can’t formulate words yet. Not while we’re waiting. It feels like days. I don’t know how long we’re there, but none of us speak until a doctor walks out of the emergency department doors. I can’t breathe.

He doesn’t look happy as he addresses the group.

“We did everything we could,” he starts, and I already start hyperventilating. She’s gone, he tells us. She’s dead. Murdoc killed her. He says something about a severe brain injury, internal organs. I don’t want her debased to her insides. I head to the opposite side of the waiting room as the entire building begins to spin.

She’s gone. Jill is gone. I’m never going to see her again. She’s never going to paint my nails or make me read fantasy novels or take me to weird art installations again.

I yelled at her. I told her I wanted her to leave me alone—

“I should have protected her. I should have… I should have made sure she got home safely. I should have never let her go on her own,” I hear myself saying.

“It’s not your fault, AJ.”

It comes from Mac’s lips. Quiet, tired, like he had seen this happen too many times already. I can’t breathe.

“That’s the last thing she said to me.”

And finally, I know what she means. I know what she meant before she died, but I can’t even consider it right now.

I stand up, I step backward, I feel backed into a corner.

“Jill’s dead because we didn’t do good enough. We didn’t protect her like we should have. This is the only thing I have left, she was the only thing I had left, and I couldn’t protect her like I should have! I told her I wanted her to leave me alone. She knew that Mac was back and didn’t tell me. That’s the last thing—I’m never gonna… I can’t talk to her again. She’s gone. She’s gone.”

“We’re going to have to make arrangements,” Matty murmurs. “Riley, can you get in touch with her family?”

Riley just nods. She’s so stoic. They all are. They didn’t know her like I did. They didn’t care about her like I did. Mac and Jack, they’re the ones who brought her into my life. And now we’re the reason she’s dead.

“All of you, I’m instituting leave. No ops. No leaving the country. For now, we mourn,” Oversight says.

“Mourn?” I scoff. “Where the fuck is Murdoc? Let’s find him. I wanna kill him. Someone let me kill him!”

Jack pushes me back from my advance on Oversight. It’s the last straw.

“Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t fucking—just stop. Stop trying to help. All you do is make things worse!”

“I was in trouble!” He yells. “Mac came back because he was savin’ my bacon! I didn’t have time to tell you!”

“What about them?” I say, gesturing to anyone left in the room. Mac looks down at his feet, trying to avoid my vitriolic gaze as much as possible. I don’t care. I want him to hear. “You all knew! You all knew, and somehow, you chose him over me—”

“No one is choosing him over you,” Bozer tries. “We couldn’t get the word out until the mission was over.”

“The mission, the mission. It’s always about the mission. Matty, put me on the case. I’ll bring Murdoc down. Give me 48 hours and enough ammo to light him up. Just let me take him out.”

“It’s not going to be that easy—”

“Let me take him out!” I cry, I lunge for the door, but I’m held back by Jack.

“Should we call security?” I hear Oversight whisper, but Matty just glares at him.

“You think security could take her down? You don’t know her at all.”

“You’re the worst of us all,” I say, pointing at Oversight. “You’re the reason all this went down in the first place.”

“I do not understand where you get off accusing me of Jill’s death.”

“Had you not fucked up your son so much he had to run to fucking Africa, we would be doing our own missions and Matty wouldn’t have had to drum up a project for Jill in the time being that led to her getting merc’d by the very person she was hunting!”

Mac finally straightens, his face shifting from concern to wondering if he really was to blame.

“My conscience is clear on this front, Harper,” Oversight snaps. “It’s apparent yours is not.”

“Don’t try to push blame on me, Oversight,” I spit. “That’s all you know how to do. Redistribute blame.”

“You remember I’m your boss, right?”

“Apparently not for long.”

“I swear, I’ll take you out.”

“I would like to see you try.”

“Both of you need to chill out!” Jack tries. I lunge again, and this time, I nearly make contact. It’s chaos. Jack throws me to the other side of the room, Bozer directs Oversight near the windows. A nurse at the station speaks to Matty, but she just shakes her head. Probably calling off security. I don’t know. I don’t care.

I feel like there’s a weight pushing down on me from above, forcing me down into the ground, and it’s a constant voice whispering in my ear, _Jill’s dead Jill’s dead Jill’s dead._

I look down. My cast has blood streaks on it. Jill had touched it, I remember.

I need to get it off. I need to rip it off. I can’t have it there. I can’t have it staining my cast—I hold my breath as I pull my butterfly knife from my pocket and start to hack at the plaster. Matty and Oversight take a step towards me, but Riley is the one to just approach me and pull my knife from my hand before I even get that far.

“Give it back.”

She folds it up with a flourish that I taught her. “We’re at the hospital,” she speaks slowly. “We’ll get someone here to do it right, okay, AJ? Let someone do it right.”

I just nod, aware that the extra oxygen was making me more and more dizzy. I’m hyperventilating again. It’s so deep, it hurts my chest. I push Jack away and he finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air and walking away. I try to catch my balance on the nearby chair, but I’m so dizzy that the world starts to tilt.

_It’s not your fault, AJ. _It echoes in my head until I can’t hear anything else. I’m collapsing inwards, like a dying star. I’m an explosion. I’m complete destruction. I’m the blackness between the millions of lights.

“Give me the room,” Mac says. “Everyone out. Now.”

Mac catches me, lowers me to the floor. I hear his words, but they don’t really lock into my brain. Nothing feels real. Everything is out of focus, like a bad camera filter. I feel it. I feel like I’m going to fall back down. But for now, I’m deteriorating.

He pulls me into his embrace. I can’t even fight it. I just know I’m crying. I’m crying hard. I’m crying so hard, my entire body moves. I just feel his hand tracing slow circles on my back, the other, intertwined in my hair. I still can’t breathe.

Pulling me from his shoulder, he cradles my face. I’ve almost trained myself to forget what he looks like.

“You need to breathe, AJ. Can you do that? Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Every breath shudders through my lungs, but each time I breathe, he gives me a smile and a nod.

“Good job, you’re doin’ great. Just breathe.”

“You never should have left, Mac. None of this would have happened if you had been here.”

I see the tears welling in his eyes, like he already knew that, that the events that unfolded after he left was just because of the choices he made. Now Jill was dead, I was nearly fired, and he was back, with no one to blame but himself.

I close my eyes, trying to stop the crying, but it just makes it worse. The tears start falling again.

“Hey, hey. Stop. Get outta your head, Harps.”

I open my eyes again, I pull away from him, the hallucination broken. “No. No, this… this isn’t… this isn’t us anymore. I can’t do this. You… you have a girlfriend. You moved away. You left me here without a single thought, Mac. You left, and everything fell apart. And now Jill is dead.”

“AJ, please—”

I shake my head. I grab my helmet, the keys resting inside. I need to get out of this building.

I focus on the tunnel vision and let it take me to the doors. To the parking lot. Away from the voices. Away from him.

I feel like I did in the infinity mirror. I feel like the singular light, the one light that goes out. But this one doesn’t reflect. This one gets lost in the sea of bright lights. It dims, it shifts, it phases and disappears. 

Nothingness and hatred and nothing. Lonely and terrifying.

I feel like I’m imploding on myself like a dying star, facing total annihilation.


	8. Erebus: Deep Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ tries her hardest to walk away, but it’s to no avail. Instead, she decides it’s time to go on a world tour of revenge, slipping further into the deep shadow of her own mind. But first, she’s got an old team to save.

_St. Angelina’s Hospital, LA_

**Moments later**

I can’t leave. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, on my Bonnie, unmoving. I can’t seem to move, and I don’t know why. It’s like all the muscles in my body have locked up, and I don’t know what else I can do.

My mind keeps reminding me: _Jill’s dead. Jill’s dead. Jill’s dead, and you’re running away, just like Mac._

That last part was said out loud, by someone who was not me. Jack wanders out the door, hands in his jeans pockets, looking as stoic as the man can look.

He repeats himself, although I can only read his lips: “You’re running away, just like Mac.”

“I’m not like him. I’m running to something—I’m—I’m going after Murdoc,” I say, and he steps in front of my bike. “Move. I’m going to find him.”

“And do what, Thea? Kill him? What good is that going to do?” He pleads.

“I’m going to feel a hell of a lot better! He’s the reason all of this has gone to Chelsea! He’s the reason—he—”

“You cannot blame this all on Murdoc, or—or Mac. It’s not gonna do you any good.”

“When did you become Mother Theresa all of a sudden? It’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’ve changed, and I have no idea why. What the hell are you doing? How can you just…. forgive him?”

He looks at me, his brow furrowed, like I’m speaking in a foreign language. “It’s Mac, Thea. He fucked up, and he knows what he did. He’s back now.”

“You mean he’s back until we catch Murdoc. Is that… is that why you don’t want me to go after him?”

“Thea—”

“Don’t ‘Thea’ me. I know you better than you know yourself, and if that’s why you don’t want me to go, at least admit it. You don’t want me to go because it means Mac might leave again.”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’—”

“Then let me go.”

“Thea, you’re too emotional. You’re too close to this. You… you’re practically having a panic attack!”

I start laughing. Of course, I was. I already knew that. But knowing it has a name doesn’t help me at all. “I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t get you. I don’t understand why the hell you’re defending him. _He _left _me. _What happened to the Jack at Disney when he told both of us not to break each other’s hearts? Why aren’t you going off after Murdoc? You’re barely around anymore. You go off for weeks without telling me. You call in for Mac’s help before you call for me. But that’s what you do, isn’t it? That’s what you do. You make people trust you and then you cut ties with them, like they meant nothing.”

His face shifts from confusion to recognition in a matter of moments. “Are you… are you mad about me going back to the army instead of joining up with you?” He says in disbelief. “Really? This is what it’s comin’ down to? You bringin’ up shit from the past, things you’ve held grudges for, just to piss me off? Because that’s what _you _do, Thea. You find any good reason to drop someone and then they’re nothing to you. Because as much as you preach about trust and all that bullshit, you can’t trust a single person.”

“How the hell am I going to trust any of you?! You knew Mac was back and no one told me!”

He sighs, like he’s back to square one and we’re going in circles. “I was goin’ after Walsh.”

“The asshole who kidnapped the MacGyvers?”

“The very same. I figured if… if I got him, Oversight would retire.”

“A decent, if flawed, plan.”

He leans on my Bonnie’s handlebars. “I don’t have your computer brain, okay? I did my best, but I got caught in this shit show with Roman Mareks, bouncin’ around Eastern Europe.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He wasn’t. He blackmailed me into helpin’ him, so I thought I would try to double cross him. The more I worked with him, the more I figured Phoenix would find out and send help.”

“And the only help they could muster was Mac.”

“You’re out of commission right now, and you know it.”

“That’s not the point!” I cry. “I could have helped! I could have… I tried how many times to bring him back. I needed help countless times, and he never came. I guess you’ll always be more important to him than I ever was.”

“Do not make this a contest. Do not do this. No one is choosing him or me over you, Thea—”

“Everyone always does! I’m never anyone’s first choice!”

“You don’t make anyone else your first choice, that’s why! You can’t trust anyone, you think everyone is going to leave you, so we all think you can go it alone! You never say anything! You think it’s easier to just buck up and move on. It’s no one’s fault but your own! We have always been here for you, and you can’t seem to figure that out!”

“As soon as I get close to someone, they die!”

My voice echoes throughout the entire parking lot. The truth is out, apparently, and Jack seems slightly smug. Not in a rude way. Not in an upsetting way. No. He knows this is the truth. And if we keep searching for the truth and trust, maybe I’m better off getting it out in the open.

“I’m sorry, Thea. I’m sorry about Mac, about being gone, about Jill.”

“You got her name right.”

“I… I guess I did.”

I try to wipe the tears from my face. For the first time today, I feel like I can breathe, even though it’s a bit labored.

“You feel a little better?”

“No,” I say, but he seems to accept that answer. “I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I close my eyes, hearing that statement from the third person today. It’s almost like the world is telling me I can do this, but I can’t do this on my own. When I open my eyes, Matty starts towards us. She seems relieved we’re both still here.

“Jack, let me talk to her,” she orders, and Jack gives me a single nod. He starts back into the hospital, and while I feel like maybe we’re healing, he still has to turn his back to me to leave.

“I want you to take some time off,” Matty says. “Please. For me. You’re too close to this.”

“I don’t care. I want him dead.”

“We all do, but you’re not helping anything by running off on your own. Let’s do this smart. Let’s do this with planning and get him the right way. I know you of all people would want to get him the right way.”

On that one, though, she’s wrong. I’m not that person anymore. That person was burned out of me when Mac left. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if I’m being reckless. I’ll find him myself.

“Harps, you’re scaring me. I’ve lost too many good operatives this way.”

“What way?”

“You’re not sleeping. You’re reckless. You’re withdrawn. You’re talking about… about wanting to die on a mission. All you want is revenge. I can’t in good faith send you out like this, and you know it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not fine. You need to rest. You need to figure all this out.”

“I have figured all this shit out,” I say, with more conviction than I really feel.

“C’mon. Let’s get you home,” she says, directing me to give her a hand on the back of my Bonnie.

“What are you doing—”

“I know you’re not going to be reckless if someone else is riding with you.”

I hand her my helmet, since I don’t have my second one, and she takes it hesitantly. But she’s right. Otherwise, I would have driven fast, I would have taken the switchbacks through Griffith Park at 90. With her, I’ll take the safest route. She knows me too well. I’ll take myself down, but I wouldn’t take anyone else down with me.

But regardless of how the air feels as we head back to Studio City, I don’t feel anything. I just feel hollow.

* * *

_Rosehill Methodist Church and Cemetery_

**Several days later**

I don’t think I heard anything at the service. All I could hear was my own breathing. The buzzing in my ears.

I’ve been to enough of these. Of the friends I used to have, of my parents. I know the entire process now. Whether it’s Catholic or Methodist or something else entirely, I have the routine memorized.

I wonder if when I die, they’ll even do the routine. What’s the point? I’m not even sure if anyone would come. That’s saddled with the expectation that my body is even found.

I would be okay with Missing in Action on my file. At least I was in action.

I sat in the back. I sat in the back at the service, I stood at the back of her burial. What’s the point? Jill is gone, and I’m still here.

After the Bible verses are read and the dirt is thrown, and the group starts to disperse, I wander my way up to the front once more. They haven’t lowered her into the ground yet. I touch the casket_. I promise you, I’ll find him. I’ll take care of him._

It comes out as “I’m so sorry”.

But she’s gone. She’s gone, and I can’t change it now.

I start to walk away, but I see the team. I see the team lingering, and they’re focused on me. I don’t hear Jack at first.

“Hey, AJ. How… how’re you?”

“Fine,” I say. I keep walking. I don’t even look at the rest of them. I don’t need to. If I look at Mac, I’m going to explode.

“AJ, can I talk to you?”

Mac steps forward. He’s in a black suit, and I hate it. I want to fix the lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes, but there’s no way I’m going to do that now. We’re not like that anymore.

“No.”

I start walking again, I start heading towards my Bonnie, but he cuts me off on the sidewalk.

“Five minutes. Please.”

He’s pleading. Something in his eyes is genuine. I have a moment of weakness.

“Time starts now.”

“How are you?” He asks quietly. It’s almost already enough for me to break.

“We’re not doing this,” I say, brushing past him to walk away.

“Not doing what?”

“Small talk.”

“It’s not small talk, I want to know—”

“What do you want me to tell you? That I’m crushed that Jill is dead? That I’m shocked you’re back? That’s the thing, Mac. I’m not sure I feel anything anymore. At least, I don’t care to. I’m going to get back to work, and I’m going to move on. Because what else can we do?”

“AJ, I just want to apologize—”

“Apologize for what?” I scoff. “Disappearing? Leaving me here, alone? Putting yourself first? Because what you did was selfish. It was selfish and immature and… and you’re just running from everything. I poured my heart out to you at… at Griffith Park, and I told you. I told you I was terrified you leaving Phoenix would change us. I told you I didn’t want to lose you again, and I thought you understood that. I thought we were on the same page. You… you threw me away so quickly, and I don’t think I can forgive that.”

“You don’t think, or you don’t want to?”

“Both.”

“I told you I would need some time away—”

“I didn’t think you would disappear! I didn’t think it would be permanent!”

“I didn’t either—”

“Oh, but you found a new girlfriend pretty quickly,” I snap.

“Harps, please. Let me explain.”

“You ran from me, and you ran from your dad, and you ran from Phoenix. I can’t condone that. I can’t condone running when I’m the one who would put up a fight. So, unless you’re willing to fight for me, or for something, this is never gonna work.”

I pull the necklace from my pocket and rip the evil eye charm from the chain. The jump ring snaps with the force. “Here. I don’t want this anymore.”

He holds out his hand and I drop it into his palm. I don’t touch him. I don’t want to. He peers at the blue charm, holding his breath.

“I told you this once, and I’m going to tell you again. I don’t stay with things I don’t think are going to work. Goodbye, Angus.”

I walk off on my own. I don’t want anyone else with me at this point.

I have a list. I have a list of people that need to die, and Murdoc is at the top. I’m thinking Kuznetsov, I’m thinking any of the Primeiro Comando da Capital. There’s quite a few people I can go after. I’m not particular. Whichever one I can find first, I’ll start there.

I’ve been quiet too long. I’ve been reactive for too long.

Time to start a world tour of revenge, I think.

* * *

_Studio City, CA _

**Two days later**

I start my prep early. I know it’s not going to be easy, but while Matty has me grounded, I know it’s time to start things on my own.

The hardest part will be getting my Valkyrie from the Phoenix armory. If I can sneak that out somehow, I’ll be golden, but I’m not doing anything without it.

The only positive thing is, I got my cast off. I had to anyway. It had Jill’s blood on it.

I check my Colts. I haven’t shot them in a while, but they’re ready to go.

The next part of the plan: first, who do I go after? Second, how am I going to get me and all my weaponry there without getting flagged by security?

I know the answer there: get a mission, go rogue. Easy as that. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.

My phone vibrates. I go to answer it, and it’s Matty. Maybe this will be easier than I thought.

“_Saddle up_,” she says. “_I’ve got an emergency, and I need someone to lead a TAC team in Honduras_.”

“I thought I was grounded.”

“_I need you for this one.”_

I’m already on my feet, changing my clothes as I go. “I’ll need my full gear.”

“_We’ll have it, and your Valkyrie_,” Matty says.

“What’s going on?”

She sighs, sounding frustrated. “_It’s Jack again_.”

“Is he okay?”

“_It’s G Squadron. They’ve all gone rogue, looking for a member in trouble_.”

“Wait, what?” I feel the blood drain from my face. “What happened?”

“_All I know is Captain Caleb Worthy is an enemy of the state, and your old team has gone after them. I need to send a TAC team, because I’m not confident this isn’t some sort of frame job, and you know how Jack gets_.”

It’s almost like I’m punched in the face. I’ve suffered enough of them to know the feeling pretty well. I spent years with these assholes. I can hear Ryan’s laugh after I make a crude joke. I know Deacon is ready to point out the inaccuracies of anything Jack’s about to say. Cerveza… the one who supported every single one of my batshit crazy ideas. Sidney, who just liked when he saw me draw blood, I think. Fitzy, who would play with me our war-torn version of skeet shooting, that was comprised of me and my rifle and he and his improvised hand grenades. And then you had Caleb: the quiet one, the one who saw everything, the one who knew when we all just needed to talk.

What the hell did Caleb get himself into?

This isn’t the time to go rogue. I had to bring the boys home.


	9. Xiuhtecuhtli: Fire and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ’s fire for vengeance is only tempered by the fact that her old team needs rescuing, but it is set ablaze once more at the realization Jack brought Mac and not her. But time doesn’t matter when rage is involved, and her fight with Mac comes to a head.

_Outside Tegucigalpa, Honduras_

**Later**

“We’re close to their last,” Carter says over the headset. We’re in the middle of nowhere, in the jungle, and I see some sort of shack off in the distance. It’s looking like they’re in deep, as the flames grow around the building. I see bodies. I hope they’re not the boys. I’ll kill them if they’re dead.

Perez gets behind his machine gun. They desperately need cover fire, because I realize they’re not shooting back. That’s what scares me the most. I position on the other side of the helicopter, but my sniper rifle isn’t going to do much right now, not until the men get into some sort of cover and hunker down.

And that’s exactly what they do: Perez’s salvo of bullets forces them to scatter, almost into the jungle, and I aim towards their contingency.

Of course, Matty will want them arrested. I search, though, on my scope for the man who’s photo we were given: Lawlor. I find him, yelling into a walkie talkie. I level my sights on his head as I hear Carter issue the orders to drop to the rest of the team. They start down the rope, but I know my place is here for now.

I could take him out as quickly as the tac team is dropping down the rope, but I decide it’s not worthwhile. He’ll be arrested. And it’s doubtful this guy is smart enough to get himself out of jail.

I settle, instead, for one shot: I exhale, and with a press of my trigger, the radio in his hand shatters. I see his disbelief through the scope. He looks up to the helicopter in panic. We’re close enough now that I’m sure he can see me. In response, I flip him off.

Not the best use of my time tactically, but it sure feels good.

I set my rifle down in the helicopter and follow Kidd down the rope. I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to go after Lawlor and his team. I need to check on the guys. Kidd goes off with the rest of the team, but I peel off, heading towards the ramshackle building. I pull my Colt, circling the house until I find entry.

While I aim my gun, I swiftly check the room: Caleb, Fitzy, Cerveza, Deacon, Jack, Mac, Sid. They all hesitate, knowing they had backup, but I take off my helmet as fast as I can. My hair falls out of the hair tie, but I can’t bring myself to care right now, because their faces are pure joy.

“Fletch?!” Cerveza gasps in disbelief. “Good God, you’re still alive!”

“And you all were about to bite it, weren’t you?” I add, glancing back around the room. Wait. My eyes rest on Jack and Mac.

Why in the hell was Mac here? Jack straightens, like he’s reading my mind, and we both know why.

He brought Mac, but not me.

Lucky for him, Fitzy breaks my gaze by slapping my hand and pulling me into a hug. “We haven’t heard from you in years, Fletch. Where you been?”

“I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

“She’s with an organization powerful enough to know where we are and that we need help, and that’s good enough for me. Nice to see you, Fletch,” Deacon says, pulling me into a hug as well.

“Let’s get you guys out of here, okay? Worthy, you’ve looked worse.” I check over Caleb, patting him on the cheek, but he gives me at least a smile.

“I’ve looked better too, and you know it,” he adds. I lean out of the door, checking the perimeter, but it looks like the team is collecting the rest of Lawlor’s men. I activate my headset.

“Hey, Carter, you call for the exfil? Over.”

_“You can take the team; we’re waiting with the tangoes for ground transport. Over.”_

I gesture with my head out of the door, effectively ignoring Jack and Mac for now. I don’t want to even consider what talking to them would mean, so I lead the way towards the now grounded helicopter.

As he passes, Sidney just drops a kiss on my cheek. I fall into step behind him, turning my back on Jack and Mac. They both know what they’ve done.

“Thea. Thea, don’t do this—”

I walk backwards for a second, checking the slide on my gun. It makes a beautiful cocking noise. They both stop talking by the time I turn around and hear Carter from across the way.

“Harper! C’mere.”

“What, Carter? We’re gonna bail!”

I see Carter grasping onto the shoulder of the man in charge: Lawlor. I start chuckling as they approach, and the rest of the team stops. Cerveza almost lunges to attack, but a single hand from Sid holds him back.

“What does he want?” I ask, brushing my loose hair back from my face. The asshole who fucked over Caleb nods at me. I’m not sure why.

“You’re the sniper that should have taken me out with the headshot?”

“Fletch doesn’t miss,” Sidney says, slowly and deliberately.

“You heard the mountain of a man. I don’t miss,” I say. God, having the boys with me again is just upping my sarcasm and pride higher and higher. I’m not sure I should be admitting that to the ether, because it usually just ends up in some sort of near-death experience, but I have to say, it’s intoxicating.

I just hope I can make it home before I try to kill Mac or Jack.

* * *

I’m not sure if I appreciate Carter forcing me on this detail, but the only good thing is, I get to go home on the Phoenix jet. Bad news? I’m going to be shoved in there with seven boys.

Luckily, we have a little time to reevaluate and refuel before wheels up, and at the private hangar we’ve commandeered for this mission, I’ve got a change of clothes waiting. Thankful to get out of my tactical gear, it’s the first thing I do; after making sure that Caleb gets some sort of medical attention, I wind my way back through the rickety Honduran airport.

I turn the corner and almost immediately run into Jack.

“Thea. Thea, let me talk to you—”

“Okay.”

He holds up his hands, and he seems to be confused. “Wait, that was easier than I expected—”

“I’m feeling generous, and I’m hoping you have a good explanation.”

“Listen. You’re mad I didn’t ask you to come along.”

“I’m glad you realize this. Why the hell did you bring Mac, and not me?” I whisper. I really can’t have the boys hearing at this point, even though I’m sure it’ll come out sooner rather than later. “After everything that just went down?”

Jack understands this and takes a step closer to me, lowering his voice. “You… you were strugglin’, Thea! I didn’t want to bring you into this the way you were the other day—”

“I could have easily gotten over it to help you rescue the team. You know this. That’s no excuse.”

He sighs. “Just because you think you can compartmentalize doesn’t mean I thought you could. You were close to Jill. Closer than the rest of us. That’s not something you can get over right quick. Besides, Mac came to me.”

“He did what?”

“He came to me, figurin’ out somethin’ was wrong. He more or less invited himself. Besides….” Jack drifts. “I needed someone to stay behind if Plan A didn’t go as planned.”

Finally, it starts to make sense. “La Paz.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you. I La Paz’d you.”

“That makes it sound super dirty, and I wouldn’t suggest saying that in polite company.”

He starts to chuckle suggestively. “When are we ever in polite company?”

I smack him on the arm, and it makes me feel a little better. In fact, all of this is. As Jack and I walk back into the main hangar, I feel his gaze on me.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you smile since May.”

“This is the first time I’ve wanted to smile since May.”

“Well, don’t let this next thing make you wanna punch something. Or someone.”

“What?” I ask as Jack peels off, heading over to talk to Deacon and Fitzy as they mill about, drinking some bottles of water they had found. And suddenly I realize why Jack bailed on me, because I hear someone clearing their throat.

I feel myself stiffen as I start to turn. “I’m not doing this. Not here.”

“Please, AJ. I just want to talk to you.”

I start walking towards the jet, ignoring Mac as he chases after me. “What the hell do you have to say to me that isn’t something you’ve already either said or implied?”

“Can you just give me a chance—”

I whirl on him, and he nearly runs into me. He’s close enough that I nearly shove him, but I hold back. I have to hold back. “Goddammit, MacGyver. I told you. I told you I understood if you needed to leave. And I did. I totally did. But you left. You left and you didn’t come back. You left, and you replaced me as easily as it was for you to just up and leave. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you think you could just come back into my life and—and think you’re going to try to talk to me. You left, Mac. You left this all behind. It’s not going to just up and welcome you back with open arms. You told me you weren’t going to just walk away from me and that’s exactly what you did. I understood quitting. I understood needing some time away. I just didn’t think you would drop me so quickly. I thought I meant more to you.”

He starts to open his mouth, and I shake my head.

“No. Nope. You will not ruin this reunion for me,” I hiss. “I have not seen them in ten years. You will not ruin this for me. Five years, running in South America with them. I was there even longer than Jack was. And you think you can just waltz in, one mission, and think you’re friends with them? Think again. Step off. Do not fucking ruin this for me.”

I brush past him, heading towards the boys, with a smile plastered on my face.

* * *

_Hollywood Hills, CA _

**The next day**

I hang back, sitting in one of the Adirondacks they’ve pushed to the opposite side of the fire pit. I’ve slipped back into the darkness, and I’m fine with it.

I didn’t want to come. It was Jack’s imploring that they hadn’t gotten together in ten years, and it would be nice to have my face there. Not that I wanted to be there.

Not at Mac’s house. But Jack’s isn’t big enough and mine is still unfinished, so here we were.

“So Thea, she just books it towards Cinderella’s Castle in the middle of Disney World,” Jack continues, still giggling. “Mac here rigs up some sort of climbin’ thing—”

“Grappling hook,” Mac and I say in unison, but I choose to ignore it. Jack’s hilarious at telling mission stories, even if they slip towards the fantastical.

“Grappling hook, and they climb up the damn tower.”

“You have got to be fucking with us,” Cerveza says, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” I say. “I punched him in the face, and he went down. Easy.”

“Now that sounds more like Fletch,” Deacon adds.

“Fletch, you’ve got a background of being an all around badass,” Cerveza says. The general consensus is in agreement. I just hope Mac sees it.

“Cambodia,” Sid says.

“Kandahar,” Jack adds.

“Porto Alegre,” Fitzy says. The boys start to laugh and I just finish my beer, although the memory isn’t one I particularly want to remember.

“What happened in Porto Alegre?” Mac asks innocently, and the various reactions sweep through the group: Caleb shakes his head, Fitzy starts to chuckle, whereas Cerveza just belly laughs. Ryan rolls his eyes, Sid harrumphs once, and Deacon, naturally, starts in.

“What didn’t happen in Porto Alegre?”

“Porto Alegre was a nightmare,” Jack interjects. “Almost Cairo level, if it weren’t for Thea.”

“_You _think Porto Alegre was a nightmare?” I say, gesturing with my beer bottle and leaning forward. “Who was held captive for _four days_ while you all bumbled around the fuckin’ city looking for me?”

“It’s not our fault you got snatched!” Ryan counters.

“Are you blaming me for that?” I gasp, but I can’t help but let the smile take over. Sure, it was a horrible situation at the time, but it was almost fifteen years ago. “You were supposed to have my back!”

Deacon holds up his hand to force us to stop arguing and directly addresses Mac. “Okay, we were in Porto Alegre —”

“I’ve gathered that.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Deacon snaps, and I nearly snort my beer. “Fletch here gets captured. Four days, it took us to track her down. When we found her, she had somehow made her own bow and arrows—”

“I’ve told you how many times, it wasn’t that hard,” I mumble. “Listen, I didn’t have a lot of time, and I didn’t have a lot to work with,” I say. “I didn’t think it would be too hard to make a longbow and a couple of arrows, and they weren’t that diligent on checking on my work. Between my bow and the wrench they gave me, I made short work of them.”

“A half day before we got to her,” Sidney says. “Torched the building herself.”

“You escaped your captors, made your own bow and arrows, then took them down before burning down the entire building,” Mac says in disbelief. “By yourself.”

I shrug, letting the pride well. “When you put it like that, it sounds like I’m Jason Bourne.”

“More like Tony Stark,” Mac says. I glance to him. For the first time in a while, he gives me a smile. A genuine smile.

But I push it away. I look away. At the mention of Porto Alegre, the acid rushes up my throat. I remember the feeling. I thought I wasn’t going to get out of there, let alone survive. A little bit of panic rushes into my throat, but I tamp it down with another drink of my beer.

“I was eighteen,” I whisper, and the group goes quiet. I hear Mac mutter ‘shit’ under his breath.

“Anyway, that’s how she got her nickname. Fletch,” Fitzy says.

“Always hits her target,” Sidney says, fairly menacing. Mac leans back from the fire a little bit. It makes me smile. It leaves quickly when Mac checks his buzzing phone and leaves the fire pit to go answer it.

“So, y’all are working together again,” Ryan says, addressing me and Jack.

“When we can,” Jack says. “She tends to go solo, though.”

“Does that surprise you?” Caleb asks. “Porto Alegre.” The city is enough to make a point.

“Cuba,” Ryan adds.

“Medellin,” Fitzy harrumphs.

“Quito,” Sid seems to remember.

“Monserrat,” Cerveza says.

“Port of Spain,” Deacon says quickly before leaning forward on his knee. “Do you have a problem taking orders, or do you just think you can get shit done faster if you go alone, Fletch?”

“All of you are too fuckin’ slow,” I say, pointing menacingly at Deacon. “Get in, get it, get out. Done.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack adds sarcastically, “And what about the times that rule has failed, hmm?”

“Jack—”

He’s too far gone, now: “Siberia? Istanbul? Sometimes you need to chill.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” I grumble, sitting back.

“How long have you been with this Phoenix Foundation?” Fitzy asks.

“Uh, almost ten years now,” I say, sighing heavily. Has it really been ten years? It feels so long ago. “I… well, it was when my dad died and I was discharged.”

“You said you were gonna go to school,” Caleb counters. “Become a cop or security consultant.”

“And alas, I did not,” I say.

“Couldn’t get out, now could you?” Ryan says. I glance to him, and he seems to shake his head. He knew me the best, other than Jack. He was always the softest, and now, I think he’s the most disappointed in me. But still, I was doing good. At least, I still think I am.

I’m never quite sure, not with Mac’s betrayal hovering over me like a constant cloud.

Speaking of the Devil, Mac wanders over to the group once more. I hate how good he looks. I hate even more how he refuses to look at me.

“Hey, who wants some good news? I just got word that the Honduran government has arrested Lawlor and his men, and they’ve confessed to blowing the tracks and framing Caleb Worthy.”

There’s a bit of whooping as Caleb just breathes a sigh of relief.

“Which reminds me, Worthy,” Deacon starts. “Next time you see an explosive lying on the ground, why don’t you leave it to somebody who knows what the hell he’s actually doing, alright?” He leans into Fitzy with a chuckle.

The boys laugh. I don’t.

But Caleb, in the way he usually is, gets serious. “I want to tell you guys; I love you. I’m grateful. You dropped everything to pull my butt out of the fire. I’ll never forget it.”

The group grows solemn, until Jack breaks it. “Hey. Listen. I know, ten years ago, we went our separate ways. That… that happens. Let’s try not to let that happen again, okay? It’s too good to see you guys. Keep each other ‘countable.”

This makes me laugh, just once, until the rest of the boys realize what he’s said. Deacon speaks up.

“Maybe we should also keep each other accountable.”

“Accountable, accountable, accounts receivable, you get what I’m sayin’, man. I… I think that we should get together at least twice a year. Make a commitment. Right here, right now. ‘Cause this kind of bond, it doesn’t grow on trees. As a matter of fact, trees ain’t—”

Ryan speaks up, raising his beer. Always the sensible one. “Dalton, I think we get your point. Twice a year, every year.”

Jack mutters to himself, until Deacon points to Mac.

“What about the new member of our group? I mean, if you want in.”

All eyes go to Mac. He tries not to, but he finally glances to me. This time, I don’t look away. The intensity of my gaze apparently makes Mac break a little. I see something other than hatred, other than avoidance, other than not wanting me there at all in his face. He looks almost sad.

“Hell, yeah,” Mac finally says. “To Dalton’s Heroes.”

I make it to Deacon and Fitzy, clanking our beers together. I chug my beer, and soon the rest of us are down another round. Mac goes inside to get more beers, and Jack follows, so I shift forward and join the guys by taking Jack’s old spot. I know it’ll be a while before we get those rounds, so when the silence settles in, and I look up from the flame, I realize I have the attention of every face around that glowing fire.

“Hey, Fletch. What happened between you and the kid?” Ryan says. Of course, it was Ryan. I always liked to think he had a thing for me. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.

“We were together,” I say shortly, looking into the fire. I know that three-word answer isn’t enough when I’m met with silence. “Fine. You want my life story?”

A good-humored nod seems to slip through the group and I’m groaning.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper. I don’t even know if they hear me, but they’re patient with me. I don’t think they realized how hard this was for me.

“I met him after I was discharged,” I begin. “I basically recruited him. He joined up, and we wrote to each other for years. Until we stopped. For no good reason,” I summarize. It’s not worth explaining more. “I thought he was dead. I found him, working for the Phoenix, years later. And then it was ships in the night, until… well, until I nearly died on an op.” They know our think tank isn’t a think tank. They’re not stupid. “He and Walk pulled me out of a dark, dark place and, well. We finally had our chance. We dated for a year before he found out some shit about our organization and quit. He left me behind. Then he spent two months with a girlfriend in Nigeria, until he ended up back here after our friend and co-worker was murdered.”

“Damn, that’s harsh,” Cerveza says under his breath.

“Maybe we should have thought twice about inviting him in,” Deacon mutters.

“If you’re looking for someone to defend him, I ain’t gonna,” I say as Jack comes back with the next round. When he hands them out, he immediately sees the shift in attitude.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

I shrug, staring into the fire. “They asked.”

“One night. That’s all I wanted. One night without you two at each other’s throats,” Jack mutters. “I’m goin’ back inside. I don’t want to be here when the blood starts flying.”

Sidney perks up at the word of bloodshed.

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a show,” I say over the top of my beer bottle. Jack throws up his hands and goes back inside the house. He passes Mac as he comes back out. Mac clocks the mood way faster than Jack, but makes a decision to not say a thing. Instead, he does the last thing he should have done: he sits right down next to me.

And of course, Cerveza decides to stir up trouble. “Hey, Mac. Heard you and Fletch’ve known each other for a while.”

“Uh, yeah,” Mac starts. He does his best to avoid my eyes. “She, uh, she recruited me. I was still at MIT when we met and she convinced me to join up. I was an EOD tech.”

Fitzy perks up, like he just met his new best friend.

“After almost three years, I joined up with Phoenix. With Jack, actually.”

“Phoenix ain’t a think tank, is it?” Cerveza asks.

“No, it is not,” is all Mac says.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve done on an op?” Caleb tries to change the subject, and Mac seems to wrack his brain.

“Honestly, guys, I’m partnered with Jack. Every op is crazy.”

“What about you, Fletch?” Caleb says. I glare at him, but I know he’s going to want a decent answer.

“You hear about that bridge collapse in Austria last month?”

“The terrorist attack?” Deacon offers.

I nod. “You see the footage of someone taking a running jump off the side of the bridge just as it collapsed?”

Their faces are hilarious as the realization sets in: Deacon almost looks disappointed in me, Ryan is horrified, Cerveza is pleased, Caleb is concerned, Fitzy seems to be calculating the amount of explosives needed to blow the bridge in his head, and Sidney is impressed.

Mac though, is the only one who speaks.

“That… that was you?”

“Yes, Mac, it was,” I snap.

He’s relentless. “AJ, that could have easily killed you. There was not enough water in that river to make sure you had a decent landing—”

“What was I going to do? Go down with the bridge? I would have gotten hurt worse if I didn’t jump. I came out with a broken arm, and we saved all of the archbishops. I would call that a win.”

“AJ, you nearly drowned!”

“So what?”

Mac leans towards me, lowering his voice. “We talked about this in Istanbul. You have zero regard for your own wellbeing—”

“You didn’t seem to care for my wellbeing when you left.”

The awkwardness comes back very quickly to the fire pit. I chug the rest of my beer, get up, and head for the edge of the porch. I’m barely given any peace because Mac follows me.

I don’t give him a chance to speak.

“I came here so I could catch up with my friends. My family, Mac. For the first time in months, I feel like… I feel normal. And you have to turn it into this bitch fest. You don’t know how to leave well enough alone, do you?”

His neutral expression turns to one of disgust. “Me? You brought it up. You brought it all up, didn’t you?”

“They wanted to know. I owed it to them.”

“What, so you can throw me under the bus?! I don’t deserve that, AJ—”

“I didn’t deserve what you did to me!”

“AJ, please.” He reaches to touch my arm, but I slap it away, stepping back from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He stares at me from a step and a half away, my hand still in the air. I feel my blood boiling, the acid rising in my throat. My teeth clench and I can’t control it.

Cerveza finally speaks up. “I need you two to either fuck or fight, but I need to know which, so I can decide whether to stay or leave.”

There’s a bit of a chuckle around the fire pit. I flip him off without looking.

“Don’t fucking test me,” I say. I don’t know who I’m saying it to, but it’s a message really for everyone. I take a breath. I take a deep breath, and I feel my hands slip into fists.

“Fifty bucks says Fletch takes him down in ten minutes,” Cerveza says.

“I’ll take her in five,” Fitzy adds. “Don’t you remember Tegucigalpa?”

“She had a baseball bat that time,” Caleb corrects.

“Did she really need the baseball bat?” Deacon asks.

Fitzy and Cerveza eye each other once more and slap hands. I hear my heart beating in my ears.

“C’mon, AJ,” Mac says, shaking his head and looking at the ground. “Is that what you really want to do? Fight me? Because I’m not gonna—”

Mac is nearly on his knees, reeling from a punch before I realize what I did. We’ve been here before. We’ve fought enough that it’ll be a fair fight. Once he gets back on his feet.

Cerveza is still seal clapping at the fire pit, while most of them have varying looks of surprise. I see Jack step out of the house, view the scene, groan, and head back inside.

“I’m not gonna fight you, AJ. This is insane—” Mac begins, but I come at him once more.

He feigns left, then goes hard on the right. I block him, and he tries to kick out my legs. Seems like he changed his mind. I somersault away and hop back up to my feet, pushing him into the porch fence. He doubles over, and I think he hits a little hard. Damn, maybe I shouldn’t do this—

It doesn’t matter. I’m seeing red, I’m seeing the months he left me alone. I’m seeing every day I lived without a word from him. I come at him again, but it’s like he knows my style a little too well. He grabs for me, gets me into a headlock. I slip his lock, grab his waist and throw him to the ground. There’s a cut on his face, probably from my right hook. He’s going to have a nasty black eye. Good. Just like I gave his father.

“You had no right to treat me like you did,” I say, advancing on him as he scrambles to his feet. “You have no right. I was there for you! I was ready to help you! And all you can think of is to leave? It’s despicable! You are your father’s son!”

He shakes his head. “I tried to tell you, AJ. I tried to tell you not to wait for me.”

“That’s all I’ve ever done! Ever since I met you, I’ve waited for you! What makes you think I’m gonna stop now?”

He freezes, like he’s made a sudden realization. I try to surge towards him, to punch him again, but I’m ripped back. Someone grasps me from my lurching motion, nearly holding me into the air. Matty steps in between the two of us as Mac wipes blood from his mouth.

“That is enough!” She yells, but I rip from whoever is holding me back and launch at Mac once more. It’s what he deserves. It’s what I deserve.

I’m grabbed, and I nearly go airborne, and my own assailant drags me away from Matty and Mac. When I’m released, I realize it wasn’t Jack, but Oversight. He looks from me and back to Mac in disbelief.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“You know what’s going on here,” I snap back. My tone is too harsh for talking to my boss, but it’s too late. He’s both my boss and my ex’s dad. He has to know this is going to be complicated.

“Sit. Down.” Matty points to a pair of chairs, one of the chairs I had been brooding in earlier. Mac does what he’s told, wiping blood from his lips. I slam down in the Adirondack and cross my arms over my chest.

“Time for us to go inside,” Deacon mutters, immediately grasping Ryan’s wheelchair handles and pushing him towards the door. The others follow suit, leaving just us four outside in the darkness.

Oversight paces for a good minute, but Matty is the one who speaks first.

“What the hell happened between you two?”

“I had it under control,” Mac mutters. His eye is already swelling. I smirk at him.

“You’re bleeding through your shirt, son,” He says. Mac rolls up his sleeve to wear he had scraped against a rough part of the porch.

“I fell.”

“You’re not even trying to lie this time.”

“I mean, technically it’s not a lie—“

“This behavior has got to stop,” Matty intercedes. “I cannot expect to send either of you on missions with this kind of behavior. You’re both out of control. You either need to make up, or find some sort of common ground where you can start working together again. This is not a request. This is an order.”

It’s my last straw. I’m done. Just when I thought I was making some sort of positive growth, just when I was starting to feel like something was getting better, they have to make it worse. The words ‘I quit’ are quick to my tongue, but I bite them down. I shouldn’t have to leave. Not when I wasn’t the problem.

“Well, you both know out of the two of us, I have seniority,” I say, standing up. I don’t look at Mac. “I know he’s your little golden boy, your ‘best agent’,” I say, making quotes with my fingers, “But who’s got the best record of anyone at the Phoenix? Me. Who has stayed with the organization the longest out of anyone? Me. Who has 56 confirmed kills, making me the best female American sniper yet, and I can’t tell anyone outside of this group? Me.” I turn to Oversight. “This fight was because of you. You couldn’t come forward to talk to your son, to tell him you were leading the very organization he was working for, and he left. He left because of you. And if it weren’t for that, none of this would have happened. He says he can’t trust you? Well, I don’t know how I could ever forgive _any_ of you.”

I can hear Matty’s voice, but none of it computes. I storm through the back door and into the house, were the guys linger. I check my phone. I have a text from an unknown number.

It’s time. I’m glad I got to see the boys before I go. The plan formulates in my brain fast and loose. The way I’m going, I might not come back from this one.

“Jesus, Fletch, the hell was that?”

“A lot of anger comin’ out all at once,” I say. “Listen, guys, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to bounce.” The calls of sadness and disappointment come out of them all at once, but I refuse to answer. Instead, I hug every one of them in turn.

“I’m so glad I got to see you guys,” I say. “Seriously. To have all of us together in one place again… it was nice. But I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

Jack starts to say something, and I cut him off. “No, Jack. Not now. Just… just don’t.”

I’m out the door and halfway to my bike before any of the guys can protest, but I see Jack running out after me.

“Thea, what the hell?”

“I can’t be in there with him,” I say, fiddling with my helmet. “I’m tired of it. I’m done. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Just let me go home.”

“Thea. Thea, please.”

“Stop saying my name like that. Just. Come here.” I pull him into a hug, a tight hug, a long hug. I think he starts to know something is wrong when I finally pull away. “I know this was a rough mission, but thanks for bringing the crew back together. It was really nice to see them.”

“Then why you gotta leave—”

“You know why. I just… thanks, Jack. For everything. You know I love you, right?”

He starts to step back onto the driveway, his face shifting from confusion to what looks like a frightened recognition. Before he can answer, I pull on my helmet and I’m halfway down the street.

I think about the text.

_Little Owl. Sending location for your Gorgon. Hope you’re smart about this. -Aussie_

I go through the mental list: Kuznetsov, Primeiro Comando da Capital. I wonder if I could figure out where Patricia Thornton is being held. Jonah Walsh—wasn't Jack tracking him, too?

I leave Mac's house for what I expect is the last time.


	10. Bean Sídhe: Harbinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ starts down her list: first, a conversation with Patricia Thornton. When that proves fruitless, AJ becomes a harbinger of death: first, Kuznetsov, the man who tortured her in Siberia. But allies are hard to find, and even harder when they’re also on your hit list. Does it matter, though, since AJ doesn’t plan on coming back alive?

_[Classified]_

**Late July**

The first thing I do before I head out of the country is stop at a black site. For the first time in years, I use my old rank and my Medal of Honor status to get into this place. I’m sure Matty is going to know where I went, especially after I ditched my phone and all my belongings at my house and took my Valkyrie home after our last mission.

She’s going to know, and I can’t bring myself to care. This is something I have to do.

We’re not even allowed to sit in the same room together. There’s a whole wall of glass in between us. Which is a better idea, to be honest. If I knew I could touch her, she would be a bloody mess.

When they bring her in, chained and handcuffed, she still somehow has her hair perfectly coiffed. I haven’t seen her since before she had been arrested. I can’t even remember when it was now.

I wait for her to become unsettled. It doesn’t take her long. We never had a good relationship, but we both know I could be patient.

Jail has made her impatient.

“Two years, and you’re just coming to visit me? I’m shocked.”

“I’m not here to have a conversation with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

Patricia Thornton turns it back to me, her voice still sinister through the speakers.

“For several years, you stopped the letters from Angus MacGyver and I from getting to each other. I want an explanation.”

“Between the two of you, you would figure out what I had done. I assumed had the relationship been able to continue, I would be discovered.”

I lean forward. “I somehow have a hard time believing that.”

“Well, Harper, it’s the truth.”

“How many times did you pretend to tell the truth?” I ask. “How many times did you try to kill me?”

She finally leans forward, and we’re inches from each other, with glass in between. “As many times as I could.”

“Why the hell did you have such a problem with me? Besides, you know, the whole traitor angle.”

“Why are you here, Harper? You didn’t care for the last two years. Why did you come here?”

I get up and start pacing. She just chuckles.

“Matilda doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

“And why does that even matter?”

“I always knew this day would come,” Thornton says. “I always knew you would finally go rogue. That’s why I had a problem with you. You were always on the edge, Harper. You were always on the edge of just… letting go. It finally happened, didn’t it? What made it happen, hmm? What was the final straw for you?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I head for the door.

Her voice echoes from the other room.

“Did you ever find the letters I took?”

I stop at the door, my hand on the handle.

“I found them all. I found every last one. Sure, you took a few years from me. But whatever you tried to do, it backfired.”

“Remember that, Harper. Whatever you try to do, it will backfire.”

I leave the black site feeling just as bad as when I went in.

* * *

_Vitim, Russia_

**Late July**

Hour seven of my stakeout. It’s not the longest I’ve sat, and at least this time, I’m in a building. And at least this time, I’m in Siberia and it’s not freezing cold. Not like it really matters.

I’ve got a bead on Kuznetsov. Thanks to Sam’s intel, I know where he’s hiding out, and I know he’s got to be leaving soon. He’s about to do a weapons exchange. I just want him, really. I want him, but I’ll take out anyone else involved if possible.

I would love a fuel tank. Something that could explode. That would be ideal, but I know beggars can’t be choosers, and I haven’t been able to spot one in his makeshift HQ.

For the first time about two hours, though, I start to see movement through my scope, and he’s there—he peers out the window, looking over the tiny village in Siberia.

I line up the shot, and I breathe in, then out, knowing I would have to make a quick exit. If they clock the location, they’re bound to find me. Maybe it’s worth trying to get away. Maybe it’s not. I’m not really that concerned at this point.

Besides, when Matty finds out—because there’s no way she won’t—I’m done this time. She’s given me enough strikes, and I know it’s not going to matter. These are my last days with the Phoenix Foundation, and I’m almost alright with it.

Account for the wind—

There’s a deafening shot, and it’s not mine.

I immediately pull back from the window, hiding the barrel of my gun.

Fuck. Fuck. Someone else is here and taking pot shots at Kuznetsov—and they just fucking missed.

Not on my fucking watch. He’s my kill, and I’m not going to let someone else take him. I bag up my rifle as fast as I can and pull my Colt before starting down the stairs.

My spot was the best in the village. I can’t imagine someone else finding something better, unless—unless they’re in the same Goddamn building.

I start making checks in all the empty rooms. It was fucking abandoned. I shouldn’t hear anyone in here, and I know there are heavy footfalls coming from down the hall.

I start running. The person in black nearly throws himself down the staircase, but I follow, and I burst into the alleyway, looking for the figure. He couldn’t have gone far. He couldn’t have escaped yet—

I slam against the brick wall, the air getting knocked out of me. When I look up, I see a face I never thought I would see again.

Without a single word, I reach up and slam the butt of my Colt against his head. He nearly drops, holding his hand against the brutal blow, but he just chuckles. It’s a dark laughter, something that makes the hair on my neck stand up.

“Ow! Athena, is that how you greet an old friend?”

“You fucking killed Jill,” I hiss, aiming my gun at Murdoc. I should take the shot, but I’m afraid it would bring them here. I have to wait, even though the waiting is excruciating. There are cries from the street and he looks lazily towards them. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

He groans and rolls his eyes. “I do not understand why you’re so worked up about that woman.”

“She was my friend!” I’m so close to just pulling the trigger. I should do it. It would be so easy. It would be so easy to kill him right now. He would do the same to me. He probably still will.

“I killed her the same amount as I killed Sam, or any of the others. It’s not _my _fault she died.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“So I’m told. Listen, Athena. We can have this conversation in a Russian gulag or over a drink I definitely haven’t poisoned, it doesn’t matter to me. But if it matters to you, we should get out of the alley that is definitely going to be searched in the next several minutes?”

“Can you speak Russian?” I accuse. “I could just as easily blame it on you.”

“Counterpoint, they’re Russians. They’re going to take you in just because they don’t like the look of you. Me, on the other hand, I could use the help.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m trying to kill Kuznetsov too.”

“Like that’s a good enough reason for me to trust you. You’ll just double cross me.” I mean, that's my plan, too. If I can get Murdoc and Kuznetsov on the same trip? It would save my frequent flyer miles.

He holds up his hands in a truce. “What if I promise only to double cross you after he’s dead?”

“Doesn’t sound that promising, but I don’t expect to last much longer anyway.”

“Aww, why the fatalistic approach? Something go wrong between you and MacGyver again? Oh, wait…”

“Oh, fuck you. You’re the worst, you know that?”

The yells get louder, and I know I could just as easily shoot him and claim he’s the one who shot at Kuznetsov, but that would require a lot more work than I’m willing to put in.

I consider my options. What’s going to happen once I get disavowed? He’ll definitely try to murder me at any chance he gets, but maybe just this time—

No. I hear Jill’s voice screaming in my head to just kill him. She would be right. She is right.

But I don’t know if I can pass up this opportunity. It’s not gonna matter for much longer, anyway.

There’s closer yelling in Russian. I slip my gun away and beckon him on my side of the wall, and I slide down next to the dumpster. “Get down.”

“Oh, this is an interesting decision you’ve made,” Murdoc whispers. “I didn’t expect this to actually work.”

“I will pistol whip you again if you don’t shut your Goddamn mouth,” I say, peeking around our hiding place. His men have seemed to pass us by, but only just.

“What would Matilda think about you now?” He tsks, then gasps. “Wait! Does she know you’re here?”

“That’s classified,” I say, raising up to my feet. “Either come with me or stay here and get found. It’s up to you.”

“My hero,” he adds. I don’t look over my shoulder and instead head towards the next street. There’s an alley way leading to where I’ve set up my makeshift safehouse.

This is insane. I should have shot him on sight. He’s the one who killed Jill. He’s the one who tried to kill me in Istanbul.

I keep reminding myself it isn’t going to matter.

“Are you done milling about the morality of it in your head, yet, Athena?”

I get inside the apartment I’ve stolen for the time being and promptly toss a right hook across his cheek. He takes it, he moves with it, and he shakes out his face before shrugging.

“I deserved that.”

“You’re smart enough to recognize that. Good. Moving on.”

“I’m really interested in seeing what you’ve come up with this time,” he says, leaning against the top of the couch.

“You took my plan! I was gonna merc the guy and leave!”

“You are definitely not here as a sanctioned Phoenix op, are you?” He’s nearly gleeful. It’s almost sickening.

I start to pace. This was supposed to be easier than this. “You’re gonna help me fix this.”

“Well, of course I am.”

I stop. I stop and glare at him. “You’re only helpful when you’re getting what you want.”

He leans onto the side of the couch. “You know I’m six steps ahead of you.” I tilt my head at him, and he seems to recalculate. “Four steps ahead of you.”

“Why’d you kill Jill?”

“Who?”

I pull my gun again and level it at his forehead. “You know exactly who I’m referring to.”

“Oh, her! Right, right. She was collateral damage, Athena. Don’t you see it? What happened as a result? Angus came back! I thought you would be happy, but you’re just ungrateful, now aren’t you?”

“You think… you think I would be happy? If Mac came back? Because Jill was dead? You think you’re smart, but you’re the dumbest person I know.”

“Well, I’m very proud of you. You didn’t run back to MacGyver. Definitely a strong choice.”

“He has a girlfriend now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I get it. He won’t quite commit to me, either.”

“I hate that you’re commiserating with me. Can we cut to the chase? My arm’s getting tired and my trigger finger’s itchy.”

“We’re both here. Let’s kill him together. Call it a bonding exercise. We part ways, willing to kill each other another day.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you, so I guess it’s truly the best kind of partnership.”

Maybe he’s right. I’m not really in the position right now to turn him down, I realize. Besides, I’ve already gone rogue. There’s not much more I can do wrong. If I’m disavowed, maybe having Murdoc as some sort of pseudo-ally wouldn’t be a bad choice.

For the time being, anyway.

I slip my gun away and he nearly claps his hands.

“I was hoping you would agree. You have such an interesting take on the job.”

“I thought you and Mac were ‘two sides of the same coin’.”

He begins to pace. “I’m starting to realize something. I think maybe you and I are the perfect foils. You see, Mac, he will always be my arch-nemesis. But you, there’s something special about you, Athena.”

“Oh, there is? Pray tell.”

“You and I, we both have the same type of soul,” he says, pacing around me. I squint at him, trying to disagree, but I can’t find it in me. “There’s a darkness in you that you can’t seem to satiate, and every so often, it threatens to come out. You’ve been holding it in a little too long, haven’t you? How long has it been since you killed?”

“It’s gonna be zero days since our last incident if you’re not careful.”

“There it is! You _get_ it. Oh, Athena, we do have fun, don’t we? Why do you keep acting like I’ve crossed a line when this is where I’ve been standing for years? And something tells me you’ve been standing on that line, too, just on the other side of it.”

“Are you flirting with me, Murdoc?”

“Perhaps just a little. I’m glad you didn’t run back to MacGyver. It would have ruined my chances with you.”

I decide it’s more fun to just play into it. The more he thinks he’s in control, the better. “You _do_ have a little crush on me.”

“I admire the way you bleed.”

“That’s one way to get a girl. Alright, Murdoc. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Tell me everything you know about Kuznetsov.”

* * *

It takes us about an hour to sort out our plan: Murdoc knows his destination, and I know the route, having been through Siberia enough, and I know exactly where we’re going to create a choke point.

Kuandinsky Bridge.

“You’re going to blow the bridge,” I say, checking my Valkyrie.

“Why? Do you really think you’re a better shot than I am?”

“Firstly, yes. You took a shot at Kuznetsov and you missed. Secondly, I don’t trust you to not shoot me while I’m setting the charges.”

“And I should trust you to not shoot me while I’m setting the charges?”

“Uh, yeah. You should.”

“Fair point.”

My phone starts to ring. The video chat is the last thing I want to see right now, but I have so little fucks left to give that I answer it. Matty’s angry face pops up. Mac and Jack are standing behind her, looking just as unhappy. Riles sits on the chair next to her, while Bozer mills about in the back.

I didn’t want to have to do this. This was never in the plan. I’m about to hang up when Matty speaks up.

_“What the hell are you doing?”_

“Hi, Matty, how are you? I’m doing great. What’s shakin’?”

_“I haven’t heard from you since you beat the shit out of Mac and stormed out of the party.”_

“And that’s by design,” I say. “Do you need something, or…”

_“Why are you in Siberia?”_

“Picking up some things I didn’t get last time I was here,” I snap back.

_“I only ask because we’ve picked you up in Vitim, running away from the scene of someone taking pot shots at a warlord we know and love. You’re lucky we intercepted the video feed and erased it, because the Russian government would have discovered that you’re the one responsible. Who are you working with?”_

“What?”

_“Cut the shit, AJ. I know you have a partner.”_

I groan when Murdoc leans into the frame of reference. Mac’s arms automatically uncross as he straightens to full height. Jack starts cursing under his breath. Riley doesn’t look that surprised, like she already knew. Bozer’s face is the worst of all, falling like he thought he knew me better.

I guess not.

“Hey, Phoenix team! Nice to see you again. Hey, MacGyver,” he says in that horrible sing song voice of his, “Your girlfriend is so much more fun to work with than you. Wait, should I say ex-girlfriend? She’s fantastic! She actually likes to kill people!”

“You’re not helping, you know,” I say, glancing to Murdoc.

“That’s not my style. Besides, you’re the one who agreed to work with me.”

“Can you just give me a sec, Jack Torrance? Put your ax away.”

Matty doesn’t break her gaze. In fact, she seems stalwart in what she’s about to say.

_“Athena J. Harper, you are henceforth disavowed. We will deny all connection to you and—”_

“You know what, Matty? I never thought I would last this long anyway.”

The way she looks at me, I feel like my heart should break. I just feel empty.

“_Harps, please. Not like this. I don’t want to do this, but you… you’re disavowed.”_

Mac steps forward, almost defensively_. “Matty, you can’t.”_

_“Like hell I can’t.”_

Mac glances at me, then back to Matty. _“I’m going after her.” _I watch him turn tail and head for the door of the war room.

_“Get back here, Blondie!”_

From the doorway, he turns. _“Why? What are you going to do? Disavow me? I’m taking the jet, Matty.”_

_“No, you are not!”_

Mac is already out the door. Jack is hot on his heels. Matty turns to the screen, to me, and then it goes black.

“How fun!” Murdoc chirps. “The whole team will be here.”

I can help but think about how that reunion might be. Part of me doesn’t care if it ends in bloodshed.

* * *

_Vitim, Russia_

**That night**

It’s a quiet ride to Kuandinsky Bridge. The whole thing is a rickety mess, made of bits of plywood with no guard rails. In another life, I would have driven over it for fun. In this life, we’re going to blow it up to kill a warlord.

We get there, we hide the truck, and get to work finishing up the explosives.

“I have to know, Athena,” Murdoc asks. For a moment, I forgot he was there, and it was pleasant. He breaks the silence with his sing-song voice. “Are you certain you have to go back to the Phoenix? Admit it—you had fun with me. You would love my son. What do they say? That’s half the battle for a single father.”

I glare at him as I drive. “You aren’t a single father.”

“I have a son, Athena—”

“—who is being raised by sane people.”

He tsks disappointedly. “That’s harsh. I knew I liked you.”

“While we’re engaging in idle conversation, why do you always call me Athena?”

“You expect me to call you AJ? No. No, I can’t do it. Why would you choose to go by such an abrasive set of initials? It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’ve been AJ my whole life,” I counter.

“That’s no reason. Do you genuinely believe I’ve always been called Murdoc? No, but it suits me. Athena truly suits you.”

“Why?”

“She is the goddess of wisdom, and handicrafts, and warfare. She is a warrior goddess, leading soldiers into battle. You should never turn from your roots, Athena.”

“You almost seemed sincere for a second there.”

“Who said I wasn’t being sincere?”

“I don’t know, everything about you?”

“You have such a low opinion of me.”

“Murdoc, after Istanbul, I know what you’re capable of. Why stop the vendetta now?”

I park the truck we had stolen and start to pull the equipment from the back. I’m headed for the weird blue observation type tower, while he’s heading for the edge of the bridge. It’s important we make sure the building’s aren’t being monitored, but the fact that none of the lights have triggered and we haven’t heard a sound is a good indicator that no one was here.

Before we part ways, he breaks his uncharacteristic silence.

“People like us, we go through two types of rage. We either go completely manic, killing everyone in our way to find our loved ones, to protect our loved ones…” he gets increasingly articulate as he seems to get madder. “Or we go to the other extreme, trying to find a way to go out in a blaze of glory, taking as many out as we can before we go. Both are incredibly dangerous in the wrong people. Or the right people, depending on who you’re talking to.”

“For the first time, I feel like we’re on the same page, you and I,” I say. He turns around and starts heading towards his place, but something bothers me. I hate the man, I do, but I just—

“Hey, Murdoc?” I call out.

“Athena.”

“After all this is done, can you… can you give the team just a little time before you go after them again?”

He walks backwards a few steps before responding. “That is a request I think I can honor, but if you tell anyone…”

“You’ll kill me. I know.”

I set my sights on scaling the observation tower. For the first time in a while, I feel like I’ve made it through to someone. I’m just sad it had to be Murdoc.

I settle on the deck, positioning myself in the best way I can: straight on from the bridge. It’s not my favorite location, but I know I’ll have a perfect shot as they head in front of me and onto the rickety old bridge.

I know Murdoc is going to kill me after this. If the mission doesn’t go the way it should, and Kuznetsov finally gets me one last time… if not, it’s going to be Murdoc. And I’m strangely fine with it. This is my mission now. I just want to erase one more asshole from this planet, and then I can go.

I guess Murdoc could be wrong. I don’t necessarily want to die. That is never in the cards. But I just know every mission could be my last, and this one looks increasingly more like it. I’ve always flirted with Death. This is just the first time he’s flirted back.

I push the thoughts from my mind as I pull my scarf around my head, protecting it from the wind. It doesn’t matter now.

We linger, though, for what feels like hours. It takes much longer than Murdoc said it would to get Kuznetsov and his convoy to move through the area, but eventually I see a flash of light from Murdoc’s position: dash dot dash. K.

He’s coming.

I see the headlights coming down the road. They’re slow moving, but they’ve got to be insane to cross this bridge at this time of night. But they seem delayed. I hear yelling, and it appears that they’re making the crossing rushed and unprepared.

Just the way I like it.

I look for Kuznetsov. He’s got to be here somewhere. I see the face in my nightmares, the deep daydreams that remind me of my days and nights in Siberia. I remind myself—it’s because of Murdoc that I suffered. He was coming after Kuznetsov for getting the information, I realize. I’m going after him for trying to get information out of me.

Maybe Murdoc was right. We are more similar than we thought.

I see him. I see his face, I see his gait, I see his angry cry. He gets out of one of the last vehicles.

That makes this all the more complicated. I hope to God Murdoc stays patient. Something tells me he could be, if he needed to be. Regardless, I watch as the slow, agonizing convoy starts onto the bridge barely wide enough for the trucks.

Kuznetsov gets back into his truck. It takes minutes for his to hit the edge of the bridge.

I see the flashing light once more. _Wait._

Still, I have a perfect angle on Kuznetsov for only a few seconds more. I count. One, two, three, four.

I have to take the shot. And this time, I do.

I see through the scope the splatter of blood right before the truck explodes.

Somehow, in the time we had between arrival and Kuznetsov showing up, Murdoc had done something diabolically spectacular: the entire western half of the bridge collapses into a ball of flame. Instead of centering all the explosives, he peppered them along the expanse, causing a chain reaction of trucks reaching flame and having their guns and ammunition explode along with it.

There will be no survivors. It’s the second bridge collapse I’ve been a part of in so many months.

Quickly, I slide down the side of the observation tower and hear his gleeful laughter.

“Now that… that was fun!”

“It certainly got the job done,” I say, stifling my own laughs. “That was—”

“The entire organization. Gone up in smoke!” He says, still giggling. “Athena, you are… quite good at this. I never expected this from you in Istanbul. Or before. I thought you were just another follower in the church of Phoenix. What you did today—”

“Was a good thing, inherently,” I interrupt. “They were bad people. You actually did a good thing, Murdoc. How did that feel?”

“I’m not entirely sure murdering a bunch of people is a good thing,” he muses. “This is why you’re so much more fun that MacGyver. Your lines are so much more… blurred.”

“Yeah, well, the next time I see you, Murdoc, I will kill you,” I say. “But this time, I just wanna say: thanks.”

“He wronged me too, you know,” he says, gesturing with his gun. I’m not sure if he’s talking about Kuznetsov or Mac at this point, but his face shifts. “It’s interesting to see the two of us in the same boat. I’m just glad we’ll always have Siberia, Athena.”

I start to back away, unwilling to turn my back on him, but he speaks once more.

“Why did you choose to help me?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I say.

“Of course, you did. Everyone has a choice. After what I did to you, to your friends. Why would you ever choose to ally with someone like me? You know I’m going to kill you.”

“I know.”

For the first time, Murdoc is speechless. But only briefly. “Athena, is this your suicide mission?”

“It’s something I needed to get done.”

“But did you anticipate coming home?”

I shrug. “I didn’t plan that far.”

“Athena,” he chides. He almost sounds sincere. “You know I can’t kill you now.”

“And why’s that?”

Regardless, I should have known this was going to happen. He levels his gun at me, and like we’re in an 18th century duel, we both shoot. I know I shoot first. My gun goes off before I feel his bullet shift through my side.

I drop to the ground, my knees hitting hard on the dirt. Already the pain overwhelms me. This is too familiar. This is wicked familiar as Murdoc steps towards me. Where I expected him to be smug, though, he just looks… sad. He holds one hand against his arm. I had done him a solid, honestly, and he went for the stomach. I’m not sure which is worse.

“Because you want to die,” He murmurs, slipping a hand under my chin and gently pulling me up to look at him. He raises his gun to my head. “You’re not quite as fun as Boy Wonder, but you put up more of a fight. I think you might be nice to keep around. I want to see how this all plays out. Besides, why should I kill you now? It ruins all the fun!”

I just try to staunch the bleeding, but it doesn’t seem to help. Murdoc unwraps the scarf from my head, and I feel like for a second, he’s going to strangle me with it, but instead, he pushes it under my hand and kneels down.

“I thought all our flirting meant something to you,” I try. “And then you go and shoot me? Not sage first date advice.”

“Only you would consider murdering a warlord and his crew a first date,” he says. “I know shooting you isn’t the best courting method, but I can at least say I’ve tried. Besides, don’t you think you’ve been shot through the heart enough lately?”

I try to put pressure on my wound without spooking him. But he knows what he’s done: it’s bleeding too badly. It’s not worth it to fight back. He’ll just finish me off.

I’m already shaking. 

“That’s why this is not a fatal wound,” he says, putting a hand over my hand and pressing. “Not yet at least.”

I don’t give him the pleasure of hearing me scream out in pain, but it does nearly make me collapse. “Well, as long as your darling MacGyver comes to rescue you. And if he doesn’t, you won’t have to suffer through his wedding to Nasha!”

I double over as he drives his knee into my stomach. It drives the breath from my throat.

“I would love to kill you,” he murmurs. “But it wouldn’t be fun unless MacGyver were watching. As much as you try to hide it, Athena, you still love him and it shows. Quite frankly, I like you two together. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

I try to rise back up, and he smashes the butt of his gun into the side of my head. I drop, although this time, he didn’t knock me unconscious.

“Now, that was just payback,” he calls.

I’m aware just long enough to watch him head towards the truck and drive away, leaving me in the middle of nowhere, watching the smoke rise from this bridge we just blew up.

God, the worst part is always the feeling of warm blood slipping from the gunshot wound. It sucks. It sucks so hard. I have to breathe. This isn’t my first rodeo. I can do this.

It takes me a moment to regain my senses. Right now, I can’t see straight, but that’s to be expected. How many times have I been shot? I don’t know anymore. How many times have I been shot in the last year? Four, I think.

So this is old hat by now. This is smooth sailing. This is going 90 in the breakdown lane on Route 128.

I try to focus my eyes, and the whole world seems to shift.

This is… not going well.

With no vehicle, I don’t know where I expect to go. This is just another failure on my list of failures this year. Nothing seems to be going my way.

But this, this is an easy one. I’m not restrained. I’m just in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, with no way to escape, slowly bleeding out.

I slam against the retaining wall of the other bridge. My head lulls, and I try to blink, just enough to regain some sense of reality. It doesn’t work. But I start to wonder: is it really worth it? Is it worth the fight anymore? Kuznetsov is dead, I’ve been disavowed. It’s not going to matter in the long run. Jill is gone. Murdoc, I've at least shot him in retaliation. I've made my peace with Thornton... kind of. I've sought revenge, and I've mostly achieved it. 

The only people I really have left are the boys, and they’re scattered across the U.S.

I said my goodbyes. There’s no one left for me to say goodbye to.

You know what? It’s better off this way. I got my revenge. I even got to shoot Murdoc. My story’s not changing. Nothing is going to get better from here on out. He might as well be the one to kill me. He tried already, and this one isn’t even as good as the last time. At least last time, he tried harder. This is so basic compared to that.

I’m ranting, and I’m not even focused on how my eyesight is starting to fade. Once I lose consciousness, that’s all she wrote.

It’s always Siberia. Why is it always Siberia?

_It’s not your fault, AJ_.

I gasp awake. I don’t know how long I’m there. I hear something. This isn’t the normal ambiance of Siberia. It sounds like a truck, but I can’t be positive. I try to press my hand against the gunshot wound, but it’s not really helping. Blood is already soaking my scarf and my hand.

“AJ!” I hear a cry. I try to push myself up, but I’m unsuccessful. I just slide down the cement angled retaining wall.

I think that was Mac’s voice. Why the hell, after all this, would he come after me? I’m disavowed. I was working with our sworn enemy.

I wish he would just let me go. Whether I’m dreaming or if this is reality, I just want to let it go.

“Jack! Jack, I’ve got her!”

The first thing he does when he gets to me is touch my cheek. It’s pleasant, of course, but I realize quickly why he’s doing it: he’s checking my eyes. I must have another growing bruise.

“What happened? Did he do this?” Jack says. When did he get here?

“You know it was Murdoc. It was… it was stupid. You don’t have to tell me twice,” I slur. I try to put a brave face on for him, but it’s really starting to throb.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill him!” Jack cries into nowhere. “The hell has gotten into you, Thea?!”

“Jack, you’re not helping!” Mac snaps. It’s a shocking change when he turns back to me. “Let me see,” he murmurs, pulling the scarf away from the bloody wound. It’s already bleeding through my makeshift bandage.

“Jesus, AJ. Again? What is it with you and Siberia?”

“I wish I knew,” I say, leaning forward at Mac’s insistence. He pulls my shirt back, looking at what I can only hope is the exit wound.

“Through and through,” he says, “On that one, you’re lucky. But I don’t know if it hit any major organs.”

Mac glances to Jack like he’s not even ready to address that, and instead, pulls my arm around his shoulders. He starts to carry me up the embankment, but my feet start to slide. I can’t see straight, and every step I take, I feel like I’m in a fun house mirror.

I hear Mac murmuring to me, but I can’t make it out as I slide off his shoulders and down to my knees.

“Jack, she’s bleeding way too much,” Mac says. I feel someone pick me up and set me down on something flat. When I try to focus once more, I realize I’m laying in a truck bed.

Mac came for me. There was no reason for him to come for me.

“Why are you here?” I finally ask. “I was… I was disavowed. You shouldn’t have come.”

“The hell did you think we were gonna do?” Jack says. “We ain’t gonna leave you here to die!”

Maybe I was wrong. Mac came for me. He came for me like he came for Jack.

Maybe I was wrong. They both came here against orders. They went against Matty. Maybe I am a first choice—

“Stay with me, AJ,” Mac says quietly. He’s got his knife out. “We need to talk about this wound. You’re going to bleed out, and I don’t have any medical supplies with me. And sorry, I can’t just magic a bunch of antibiotics out of thin air, and we’re not really doing too hot in terms of bandages. Jack, do you still have that vodka in the truck we stole?”

“Yeah, but I was hopin’ to drink that later—”

“Firstly, it’s moonshine, and if you drink all of that, you’ll either go blind or die. Secondly, do you want AJ to die?”

“Uh, no—”

“Unbutton her shirt, take the scarf off, and then let her drink as much of the alcohol as she can.”

“That one I can do.”

He lifts the bottle to my lips. It tastes like pure rubbing alcohol, but I take as much as I can. It hits me almost immediately. I know what he’s about to do, but I can’t say I’m too happy about it, as he pulls me upright.

The whole world spins. I’m losing too much blood.

“Can you find her something to bite down on?” Mac says, not looking up from his work. I do see Mac dowse his knife in the alcohol, and then pull a lighter from his pocket. The flame jumps to life and he starts heating up the knife.

Jack immediately pops the snaps on his leather cuff.

“You still have that? Where did… I got you that…”

“Suriname,” he adds, much to Mac’s disbelief.

“Wait, AJ gave you that? That’s why you wear it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked!” Jack says, slipping it between my teeth. “You just made fun of it.”

“I wouldn’t have had I known it was from her!”

Mac doesn’t give me a warning as the hot metal comes in contact with the bullet wound through my side. I don’t want to scream, but I know Jack is going to have a decent mark on his cuff for the time immemorial. Knowing him, he’ll look at it fondly.

Mac switches to my back as quickly as he can, and I pitch forward. He catches me, almost in an embrace, holding me still until he’s cauterized the wound. This time, I let the tears roll down my face, and as soon as I can breathe again, I release my grip on the cuff and let it drop.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“This is my fault,” Mac whispers.

“No, it’s not. None of it is.”

“You wouldn’t have gone on this insane vengeance mission had I stayed.”

“I didn’t want to die,” I whisper. I realize I’ve been whispering it for a while now, like I’m on a feedback loop.

Mac holds me close to him, my face still bloody and my back still throbbing, sobbing, until I finally slip into unconsciousness.


	11. Janus: Transitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ hit rock bottom in Siberia, and her rescue from disavowment by Jack and Mac only forces her lower into the ground. But the only way she can go now is up, as she transitions into a mindset she’s still not used to: that she’s worth something.

_Rosehill Methodist Church and Cemetery _

**Early August**

“So, we ended up in South Korea. When I was stable, we got back to LA and… they put me on suicide watch. I know. I know it was stupid, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

I finally pull the dead flowers from the holder next to her gravestone and replace them with the yellow roses I had brought.

“Oversight instituted a mandatory break. For now, at least. I mean, I don’t really have a choice. I’m still healing. But after everything… after…. after you, and the Delta team going rogue, and me fighting with Mac, and me leaving, I think he decided we all needed to rest.”

I stare at the etched letters in the granite. It’s not much, sure, but I know she can hear me. If she can’t, then what are we doing this all for?

“I still don’t know how the hell they made it all disappear. It had to have been Matty or something. I don’t know. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I just know that once I get myself right, I can go back.”

I just breath for a second. Sure, she hasn’t been gone long, but it feels long enough. I know it’s the real start of what made me spiral, and I know for sure that it was no one’s fault but Murdoc’s.

“Listen, I’m sorry for working with him. I really am. I know you would have yelled at me for it. You probably are right now; I just can’t hear you. I was desperate. I was stupid. I was doing it for a selfish reason. But I want you to know I’m sorry. The only consolation I have for you is that I did shoot him.”

The rock doesn’t say anything back. But I know. I know.

“Thanks for listening. Sometimes that’s all I need.”

Jill knows.

* * *

_Studio City, CA_

**Mid August**

“You have impeccable timing,” I say. I’m almost done painting the guest room. This house is almost finally done, and I’ll be happy to see it finished. I’m just trying to use my time wisely, and the quiet… it almost helps. At least, this time, it does.

But I had some apologies to make, and she was next up on my list.

“_Of course, I do. You’re just lucky I’m not on an op.”_

I glance to the video call for the first time, and I see Sam, grasping onto a baby, about six months old, with white blonde hair. He grasps for the phone and she pulls away.

“Oh, God. Please tell me this is him.”

_“Pippin, meet AJ. AJ, Pip.”_

He makes one of those adorable gurgles. “Well, it’s official. I’m going to steal him.”

_“And I’m gonna kill you before you do.”_

I consider it for a moment. “We’re both lethal enough to know that that’s a valid option.”

_“As long as you know I’ll win.”_

I finally put down my paintbrush. “Really? We’re gonna have this conversation now?”

She just smirks, then sets him down. I’m sad to see the kid go. “_I got your package, by the way.”_

“Oh, yeah?”

“_The ‘Fool of a Took’ t-shirt was the biggest hit. My sister constantly puts him in it. I think it’s in the laundry right now.”_

“I’m gonna keep sending them. I’ll buy them in every size.”

“_She doesn’t even know you other than ‘my friend from work’, so do what you will. I think she thinks we’ve got a thing—”_

“Don’t we?” I add, and I get her to chuckle.

“_So there’s gotta be a reason you’re texting me at 4 a.m. your time,” _she finally addresses.

“Yeah. Well, I wanted… I wanted to apologize to you. For Kuznetsov.”

She just barely tilts her head in my direction. _“There’s no reason to apologize to me, AJ.”_

“I dragged you into my own personal vendetta for no good reason other than to get help from someone who wasn’t in Phoenix. That was totally unfair to you.”

_“I appreciate the apology, but it was never necessary. I’m always here to help.”_

I sigh. She was my easiest one, and it will only go downhill from here, but still. It’s nice to hear.

“I know, Sam. I know.”

* * *

_Studio City, CA_

**Early September**

While it’s not something I really want to be comparing, I feel like the fire pit I’m building needs to be bigger. I want to be able to have half a bonfire back here and royally piss off my new neighbors.

I’m not sure they even know who I am. I’m here for several days, then I’m gone for days, for weeks. It’s not fair to them, sure, but I really don’t care to talk to them. That’s why I’ve got my music cranked loud, and fully anticipate a noise complaint before the end of the night.

I hear footsteps from somewhere on the other side of my fence, though, and I finally look up from my brickwork to see Jack reaching around and opening the gate to my fence. I can’t hide my smile when I see him and Deacon.

“The hell you guys doing here?” I ask, getting to my feet. It hurts a little less every day, but I have been outside all day in the heat, so the pain comes a little bit faster than it does when I’m comfortable inside.

“Deac was in the area, so we figured we’d come check on you,” Jack says, brandishing a six pack of Sam Adams.

“Sorry, I’m a mess, I just… I’ve been—”

Deacon cuts me off, pulling me into a tight hug. “Don’t worry about it.”

I lean down to turn down my music—right now it’s _Sweet Emotion. _Still, I leave it play, because Deacon just starts to laugh. I take his moment of vulnerability as an entrance. “What brings you to LA?”

“Oh, well, uh,” Deac starts to mutter, and I see Jack glaring at him.

“Didn’t come up with a cover story, did we?” I say, finally letting him go. I pull a few patio chairs over to my unfinished fire pit.

Jack slams down into one of the seats, while Deac drags his own over. “Deac is home alone this weekend—his wife took the kids to her parents, and I… invited him up to hang out. You know. Catch up, for real this time.”

I immediately help myself to a cold beer. “How much did you tell Deac?”

“Enough,” Deacon adds. “How’re you healing?”

“I’m ready to get back in the field,” I admit, and Jack tips his head towards me, like he knows. He definitely knows. But it’s not his place right now, and this is the first time he’s come to talk to me in a while.

“Oh, well, hang on,” Jack starts to mutter, pulling out his phone.

“Got something else to share with the class?” I ask, and he starts a video call. “Deac, the hell is he doing? Does he know how to handle that kind of tech?”

Deacon just leans over and takes the phone. Before long, I hear Cerveza’s voice, calling out over Fitzy’s well-mannered greeting and some sort of non-committal noise from Sid. When Jack turns around the phone, Ryan just waves, while Caleb smiles.

“Uh, the hell is this?” I say. I can’t help but laugh, because before long, Deacon sets the phone on my stack of bricks and we can all see each other.

“Thought we could all at least get together this way,” Jack says, gesturing towards the phone. “At least half as good, right?”

_“Jack said you were grounded, Fletch,”_ Caleb says.

“_Yo! Fletch! The fuck did you do?” _Cerveza says.

“I left that party, went on an op, and got shot,” I say, taking a long drink from my beer. God, it almost feels like it used to.

_“How many is that?”_ Ryan says.

I start to count. The guys chuckle until they realize suddenly how long I’m taking.

_“Fuck, Fletch. How many are you up to?”_ Cerveza adds.

“Four in the last eighteen months,” I say. “Twice in Istanbul, Twice—separate times—in Siberia, once in in Caracas, another in Palma, and another in Afghanistan. That’s just DXS. I was shot twice in Basra, once in Kandahar, and once in Tangier. So… eleven.”

“_How are you even alive_?” Ryan scoffs, half in disbelief and half in fear.

“I have no idea,” I admit.

_“Almost up to an even dozen,”_ Cerveza comments.

“Don’t jinx her,” grunts Sid.

“Wait, what was Basra?” Jack asks.

“You had left the unit,” I explain.

_“Weren’t you running point, trying to get intel from that businessman and you ended up trying to awkwardly seduce him?”_

“_That was Tangier_,” Caleb corrects Ryan. “_He tried to shoot her, but it was just a graze, wasn’t it?”_

“That was not just a graze,” I say, pointing to the spindly scar on my arm. “He took skin and muscle with that shot.”

“Not the worst one,” Deacon says. “Basra was… when you were talking to those women, and the husband caught you, isn’t it?”

I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. That was another one I had forgotten about. Or had tried to forget. “Yeah. One under my vest, the other, almost took out my kneecap.”

“Rough,” Jack murmurs.

_ “What was Istanbul?”_ Ryan asks. It’s so innocent, I can’t even fault him for it, but the breath holds tight in my throat.

“Istanbul was another Djibouti,” Jack says, clearing his throat. The entire call gets awkwardly silent, but I have to. I have to speak up, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s cleansing. Maybe it’s making it not have power over me anymore. Regardless, I start in.

“We, uh. We were on an op, and the mark ended up blowing up part of a hotel and uh, kidnapping Jack, Mac, and another member of our team. It was… well, I went after them. Mark got away, but not after he beat the shit out of me, pistol whipped me, shot me twice to the vest—one was with his sniper rifle—shattered my thigh bone, broke my hand and wrist, and effectively poisoned me.”

Silence reigns once again. I grab a second beer before starting in. “Siberia was another shitshow. Shot through shoulder, hypothermia, dozens of lacerations, exhaustion, dislocated shoulder, seizures, pistol whipped… don’t forget the drug overdose!”

“Jesus, Fletch,” Deacon says under his breath.

“_We knew you’d never get out of the game, though,”_ Ryan says. Even on the small video on Jack’s phone, I can see the wistfulness.

“I’m not built for leaving. I’ll be here until I die,” I say, peering into the half built fire pit. I’m right. They all know it, but they don’t want to admit it. Instead of responding, we all linger in silence. I mean, mostly silence. My phone stops playing _Highway to Hell,_ though, and segues into the next. Sid perks up at the song that automatically starts in.

_“Oh my God,”_ Fitzy whispers. It almost becomes a prayer. _“Do you all remember—”_

“The convoy through Helmand,” I start laughing. “When was that?”

“Had to be right before you left the first time, Jack,” Deacon says. “What, 2005?”

“September,” I correct. Jack just points at me, because he knows I’ve got to be right.

_“I will forever have that image of him, screaming off-key along with Robert Plant, threatening to kill the fuckin’ Taliban,”_ Fitzy says.

“I was on-key, thank you,” Jack says, gesturing with his beer. “Tell ‘em, Thea.”

I start to wordlessly cringe. The guys just bust out laughing, and Jack looks at me, both somehow defeated and entertained.

“I love you, man, but you can’t use me as backup when you know you’re not a good singer. Should’ve let Led Zeppelin sing it.”

“On we sweep with threshing oar, our only goal will be the western shore!” Jack tries to sing, but it falls flat. Super flat. I nearly fall out of my chair, and it only makes the guys start losing it even harder.

Once I right myself, and Jack calms down a little, he looks to me, a little smile blossoming over his face.

“Happy birthday, Thea.”

I mouth the words ‘thank you’ to him.

It’s all we need.

* * *

_Knott’s <s>Berry</s> Scary Farm, CA_

**Early October**

Bozer runs off ahead of us, trying to scope out what was next. We had been through enough of the so-called fright zones, but nothing seemed to scare me, and for Bozer, that was a travesty.

Riley just links her arm through mine. “I know why you brought us here.”

“Yeah, because no one else would enjoy this as much as you two weirdos,” I say, leaning into her. But she knows the truth. They were next on my hypothetical list, and I figured this was a perfect way to apologize for my behavior and have a good time.

“Oh, hell yes, what about this?” Bozer calls, pointing to an ominous looking sign that says “Special Ops: Infected”.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“Spec ops,” I say, pointing to myself. “You better hope we’re on a team by ourselves, or someone’s gonna want to kill me.”

“Oh, it won’t be that bad,” Bozer says, pulling us in. I’m still a little concerned, for multiple, vastly different reasons. I’ve been okay for most of the night, with the flashing lights and the smoke, but I’m a little afraid this one might set me off. I just try to breathe through it. It’ll be fine. We get in line, and I try to focus, even though my heart jumps.

Riley already starts flirting with the trio of guys in front of us. Well, more like tearing them down, but they can’t seem to take the hint.

“Maybe we should see who gets through each side of the maze faster, huh?” The one guy says.

Bozer, though, in his way, just starts theatrically laughing. “You sure you wanna challenge us to that?”

“What are you gonna do, scream your way through?” The other one says. I just stand against the wall, my arms crossed. I know what’s coming, and I better just prepare myself for the comment—

“Our friend? You see her? The quiet one? She’s former spec ops. And no, I’m not talkin’ _Call of Duty._ Real. Special Ops. Now, you wanna look at the sign above our heads? What’s that say? Hmmm? I can’t hear you—it says ‘Special Ops: Infected’. This maze was built for her.”

The main antagonistic fuckboy—for that’s really what they are—laughs. He actually laughs. I don’t, and he trails off. At any rate, he speaks up again. “Let’s make it a wager then.”

“I bet you 50 bucks we’ll finish before you,” Bozer says.

“Raise it to 100, and I’ll call it a bet.”

B just glances at me. I haven’t even said a word, but we communicate with a few looks. He knows I’m not pleased, him using me as an exploitative device, but I nod once.

“Look at her, just because she doesn’t talk doesn’t make her spec ops,” one of the guys says. “Does the military even allow women in special ops?”

I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore. “Keep runnin’ your mouth off, and you’ll find out if I’m tellin’ the truth.”

“AJ, don’t,” Riley barely breathes.

“Just let me hit one of them,” I whisper back.

She just closes her eyes and shakes her head. I don’t tear my eyes from the lead asshole, and instead, he turns back to Bozer.

“Amendment to the bet. I wanna see her in action, so 100 bucks to the person with the most headshots.”

Bozer just shakes the man’s hand as we get to the front of the line. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Riley looks up to the ceiling, groaning, as Bozer hands her a weapon. I get one too, get told “headshots only”, and can’t stop laughing. I realize I seem insane, but these guys just keep digging themselves into a hole.

Instead, I instinctively push to the front of our six-person group and listen to the actor explaining about this ‘outbreak’. I almost check my clip. It’s not there, it’s unlimited ammo, and it makes it that much worse. I can see the blinking lights and the loud noises from through the weird curtain.

We’re not allowed in yet. Instead, one of the guys asks Bozer what I was supposedly in.

“1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta,” he spouts off. I roll my eyes. I would never brag about that. I would never bring it up. But he would.

“You want me to believe she was in Delta Force?”

“Ask her what her specialty was.”

I glare at the group of them as we’re given the authority to step through the curtain.

“I’m a sniper,” I say, much to B’s glee. It’s enough for me to see the look on his face as I slip through the curtain and into the mock warehouse.

It’s almost debilitating at first. My hands start to go numb, and then immediately, it slips away. The adrenaline courses through my veins, and I run down the ramp. I shoot one zombie in the corner, the next one that pops out of the barrels next to me, and then the trio that come at me at the opposite end of the mock room.

And then the others make it down the ramp. I climb on top of one of the barrels and peer around the room, making sure there aren’t any more coming through the dark. I spot one behind one of the asshole’s friends, and using my left arm as a stabilizer, I level my gun and take a single shot. In a metallic voice, the gun calls out another headshot.

I slip through to the next room. It looks like an abandoned hospital.

“Watch your corners!” I call out, and B and Riles immediately shift, nearly back to back as they walk through the room. I don’t even know where our friends went. They’re somewhere far behind. I don’t know if they’ve taken a shot yet.

I just keep running. In the dark, with loud sirens, I nearly slip into a memory. Kuwait. I hold my breath, sliding to a stop near a pile of fake barrels. I close my eyes shut tight, but I can’t get the memory out of my head. I know if I shut my eyes tight, it’s a 50/50 shot at whether when I open them, I’ll see real life or the battlefield. I count. Three, two—

And like Kuwait, someone drags me to my feet. Riles pulls me through the room, and I instinctively push through the flashback. She guides, and I shoot. It’s a decent plan.

We get to a train car, and each side is open.

“How you wanna do this?” Riles asks.

“Me on point, B on left, Riles on right,” I say. I gotta get command back. I can’t let this asshole win. Besides, it’s 100 bucks. Bozer legally has to share it with me if I win this.

When we win this.

“Go.”

Hands on my shoulders, we clear the room in barely a moment. The other guys make it to the fake train car when we’re finished clearing it.

“I told you not to fuck with us,” I chuckle. He just shakes his head in disbelief. I use this time to push forward into the next room.

It’s fake. It’s not Kuwait. It’s a fucking laser maze with actors dressed as zombies.

Time to settle this. I’m reminded about the laser tag game for a moment, but I push that memory down too.

“Give me a boost,” I say, and B immediately—and without question—leans down and gives me a foothold. I climb up the nearby scaffolding and take a position. “Head through the maze, I’ll pick ‘em off as they come for you.”

Riley just slips her gun over her shoulder and grins, hopping a little bit as she preps to run.

“Go, go, go!”

I’m not sure how many zombies are in this course, but I feel like half of them come for B and Riles as they make their way through, unafraid and giggling, as I pick them all off one by one.

I climb down and find our three buddies lingering. I’m glad they got to see the scene.

“Dude, you’re the one who made the bet," one says to the other. "I ain’t puttin’ any money in.”

I flip them off as I chase after Riles and B. We burst out into the main, well-lit exit. As soon as I do, I immediately bail. I get a wall behind me, and I try to breathe again. I didn’t realize I would be this out of breath. It’s not because I’m winded, I realize. I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. Everything is fine.

“Gray, that was amazing!” B calls out. “I shot exactly three zombies, but dude! There’s no way we ain’t walkin’ away with that cash money! Riles, how many did you get?”

“Five,” she admits, blowing her fingers and pushing her finger gun into her pocket. When she turns to me, I think she realizes what’s going on. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I murmur. “I’ll be okay. Just… no more flashing lights tonight, alright?”

“Got it,” Riles whispers. I finally turn in my gun. The tech starts going through, figuring out our kill streaks and number of headshots. Shocked, he glances from me back to his computer again.

“Hang on, I think your gun malfunctioned.”

“No, no, no,” Bozer interrupts. “Trust me. That’s correct.”

Our buddies turn theirs in at another terminal, and I can already tell they’re pissed.

“How many zombies are in the maze?” Riley asks innocently.

“Fifty-seven,” the tech says.

“Hey!” Bozer calls out. “How many did y’all kill?”

“Six,” the asshole says.

“Just you, or—”

“Total,” his friend says, and he nearly punches him in the stomach.

“We’ve never had anyone clear the maze,” the tech says, showing us the screen. “It’s a new record.”

Kill count: 43. Kill streak: 17, 26.

“Can I take a picture of this?” I ask, pulling out my phone. “I need this for my friend Jack.”

“I’m scared of you, honestly, so you can do whatever you want,” the tech says.

“She’s a sniper,” Bozer whispers.

“You can’t keep telling people that,” Riley counters.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’ll take my 100 bucks now!”

The asshole pulls out his wallet and starts peeling off twenties. Bozer takes it with a grin, and they go to leave.

“That’ll teach you to underestimate a woman again!” He calls.

I shake out my hands. They’re numb again, but it’s fine. I’m fine. We’re here. We’re in LA. It’s home. I’m with friends. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, and I see Riley glance at me.

“Why don’t we sit down at get some food?” she suggests. “Looks like Bozer’s buying.”

“Woo, girl, we’re goin’ to Johnny Rockets and then the arcade,” he says gleefully.

“Only if there’s Skeeball,” I counter.

Riley links her arm with mine. “God, you’re exactly like Jack.”

I knew they wouldn’t need much from me. I should have known they would always have my back.

* * *

_Nat’s Early Bite Coffee Shop, Sherman Oaks, CA_

**Late October**

I step into the tiny coffee shop at twenty past seven, and while I know I’m early, he’s already in a booth. The booth in the corner, with his back to the wall, eyes on every window and exit.

Maybe we are more alike than I would care to admit.

I make my approach, and it takes him until I slide into the corner booth to even look at me. But he shifts over just far enough so I’m able to sit with my back against the wall. Still, he doesn’t speak right away. The waitress comes over and offers me a cup of coffee. I take it, add a packet of sugar, and chug half of it before he opens his mouth.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”

“I thought about not coming,” I say, looking over the menu. “But I figured standing up my boss would be a sure-fire way to get myself fired.”

“And what, threatening to fight him or disobey his direct orders wasn’t enough?” He counters. I look at the door and consider leaving, but he speaks up again. “AJ, I’m not… I’m not here as your boss today. I want you to understand that. I just wanted to talk to you. See… see how you were doing.” His voice is soft. It’s softer than I ever expected. It throws me for a loop, actually.

I don’t look up. I go straight for the 4 hot cakes, 2 eggs, 2 bacon, 2 sausage special and set myself on that. The waitress takes our orders, and it takes several minutes before I can gather my thoughts.

“What happened to Siberia?”

“What do you mean?”

“It just… disappeared. No consequences. I figured Matty might have something to do with it, but… but I’m starting to think she’s not the one who instigated it.”

He starts to smirk. Just a little. Just barely. “I couldn’t, in good faith, let her order stand. I… when Angus chose to go after you, I revoked it.”

I try to ignore the statement about his son for a moment. “What about the records? What about Phoenix’s involvement?”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “We backdated a paper trail. What you did was an officially sanctioned op that went horribly wrong.”

I find myself touching my side. Almost done healing, sure, but the pain’s still there. Still, I find myself unable to speak for once. Oversight—James—comes through a little softer. For the first time, I feel like he’s truly stepping up. I wonder what changed.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for leaving Mac like that for how many years,” I finally say, almost under my breath. “I could never understand why you took so long. But I can understand the why. I still… I just don’t think it was right.”

“You’ve done questionable things, too,” he starts, but seems to rethink his next statement. “You and I, we’re good at making mistakes, but we’re also good at recognizing them. And I know what you’ve been doing lately.”

“What have I been doing lately?” I counter.

“You’ve been making some apologies. It’s admirable, AJ. I really hope you’re starting to feel better.”

“I’m trying.”

“It shows.”

He seems genuine. I can usually read people, even spies, and he seems to actually mean it.

“How has therapy been going?”

“It’s going,” I say. “I’m glad she’s got security clearance, though. Literally everything I can say is TS-SCI.”

“Higher, maybe.”

I sigh. “I think it’s working. I feel like it is. I don’t know, between Kuznetsov and therapy, I feel like I’ve finally found a balance.”

“Between letting out your rage?” He comments. “One is a hell of a lot more healthy than the other.”

“I know I have anger problems,” I say. “I’m sorry for punching you. I mean, in my defense, you assumed I would drive drunk. I would never do that. But punching you was out of line.”

He starts to chuckle a little. “I actually think I deserved that one.”

“You think so?!”

“I should have come forward sooner,” he admits. “I have tried countless times to apologize to you, and you just… you never let me.”

“When you came to the bar, you tried to. I didn’t believe you.”

“It was definitely sincere.”

“You’ve really been trying all these years to push us together?” I ask, feeling the sour taste, the acid of the coffee rising in my throat. “We really fucked it up, didn’t we?”

“It’s my fault,” he says, grasping the coffee mug in his hands.

“I can’t deny that.”

“I know, you can’t. Because it’s true.” He just adjusts in his seat then looks back up to me. “I like you, AJ. That’s why I convinced Patricia to hire you in the first place. And then, when I discovered you had befriended my son, it was…” he drifts, and I suddenly realize I understand what he’s trying to say.

“That tiny event set off everything to where we are today,” I conclude. “Although it may seem random, eventually we can see the patterns. Mac and I….”

“You’re a mathematical constant,” James says, almost like a prayer. “You just described—”

“Chaos theory. I know.”

He tilts his head a little, almost confused, until he just nods. “You never fail to surprise me.”

I give him a smile. I can’t bring myself to stop.

“AJ, you are… more integral to the Phoenix than you think you are. I like having you around. I can depend on you, you’re good at your job. You follow orders—when you think they’re right. You’re a damn good sniper. You’re… you’re a good match for my son. Professionally and personally.”

“Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you actually like me?”

“I do.”

His statement is so quick, I’m almost taken aback. I can’t speak, and he speaks up for me.

“Please, talk to him. Consider talking to him like you are everyone else. He knows what he did was wrong. He knows it hurt you in ways you may never forgive him for. But he wants to make amends. Just like you.”

I glance at him, and I know he’s sincere. I can see it in his eyes. The way he looks at me reminds me so much of Mac, that I hear myself before I know what I’m saying.

“I’ll… I’ll at least talk to him. I will. Thanks… thanks, James.”

“I should be the one thanking you, Harper.”

“Call me Harps.”

* * *

_Pasadena, CA_

**Early November**

I finally finish shooting. It took me quite a long time out on the range, but I finally feel a bit better.

James’s words still linger in my head. I haven’t done it yet. I know I should, I know I should track him down, but I’m not ready. I’m still not even sure what I could say. I don’t know if I could let him speak.

But in all reality, he helped push this spiral off. If he hadn’t had left—if James didn’t do what he did—none of this would have spiral into the insanity that it did.

But, if I was that fragile anyway, wouldn’t it just be a matter of time before I went off the ledge?

I guess, in a way, he did me a service.

I hear John talking to a customer, but I speak up anyway. “Hey, John, have you got a kit handy? I think my Colt’s still messed up—”

And then I look up. I hate myself for the way my heart jumps. I can’t seem to make it stop, even with all the hatred boiling inside me.

I know it can’t be hatred anymore. It’s turned to something else entirely. It doesn’t roil like it use to. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.

“Mac,” I say, but my voice catches.

“I was just chatting with John,” he says, gesturing towards my friend. John just gives me a look. One that says he knows more than he did before. “I, uh. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Did you do this?” I gently accuse John, but he shakes his head once.

“He came in here, lookin’ for you. I had nothing to do with it.”

“I… I’ve been coming to every range in the city,” Mac says, almost offhandedly, as I set my gun down on the counter. “I just… can I please talk to you.”

I sigh. It’s going to be easier if we can settle this once and for all. James asked me to. I pull my headphones from my ears and set my phone down on the counter, setting my feet. John bails: he surreptitiously goes behind the ‘Employees Only’ door. I know he can hear everything on the other side.

“John was telling me you end up here every so often,” Mac says, running his fingers over the glass counter. “Then he started recounting the times you were out longest. April 2014. March 2017. Today. Rio, our fight at Phoenix, now. I just… I wish you wouldn’t have to resort to violence to get your feelings out.”

“I’m not,” I counter. “If you ever shot a gun, you would understand the discipline. It calms me.”

“I have.”

“What?”

“I have shot a gun, and I don’t plan on doing it again.”

I straighten. That’s the first time he’s ever told me that. Regardless, I tamp down the feeling in my stomach and continue. “Listen. I don’t… I don’t expect us to make peace, but I want to be able to work with you again. It’s not fair to me or to you, acting like we have been, fighting like cats and dogs until someone goes off the deep end.”

“I don’t want to just make peace, AJ—”

“There’s no way,” I say. “If you think it’s going to be any more than neutral, you’re wrong.” Even as I say it, I know I can’t be serious. It sounds like an empty threat.

“I’ll accept neutral right now, I guess,” he mutters. His voice cracks. “I just…”

“What?”

“I just don’t know how you could go from wanting to kill Murdoc to working with him.”

“It was… it was complicated, okay? I just… I wanted to kill someone,” I admit. “I didn’t care who.”

“And that’s what scares me the most.”

“What does it matter to you? You left. You forfeited the right to care.”

His shoulders fall, and he takes a step towards me. I step back.

“You made me feel like I meant nothing,” I say, clenching my fists. “I can’t trust you anymore. As soon as I open up, you left. You put yourself first. You ran from everything and tried to start over. But all you did was make us start over, too. You replaced me. You replaced all of us. I’ve always waited for you. I’ve waited for you to come back, to write to me, to… to… I just don’t know if I can wait anymore. I didn’t deserve what you did to me.”

“No. You didn’t. And I’m sorry.”

It hits me like a sniper shot to the chest, and I’ve felt it before. The breath is forced from my lungs and before I can recover, he continues.

“You have no reason to trust me again. It was selfish. It was exactly what my father did. But I never replaced you. I could never replace you, Harps. You didn’t deserve that. And it took me way too long to realize it.”

I hate this conversation. I can’t even counter him. I busy myself with pulling apart my Colt, but instead, he gently takes it, making a conscious decision not to let our skin touch. He finishes my work and starts to look around the gun until he determines the issue with a chuckle. “It’s your firing pin.”

“Go figure.”

He pulls the kit John had gotten out towards him and sets to work. It takes him all of a couple of minutes, and when he sets my gun back down on the counter, he glances at my phone. I realize it’s still playing music.

“Are you… do you still listen to that playlist?” His voice is different. It’s from before.

“What playlist?” I ask, grasping my phone and pressing it tightly to my chest.

“You sent me that iPod in what, 2009?”

My yearning to be right is stronger than my yearning to not talk about this. It’s better than fighting. “Christmas,” I say. “It was this iPod with like 300 songs on it.”

“And you preloaded it,” he chuckles. “But you had that one playlist.”

“It was so angsty,” I say. Even I can’t keep a straight face. “Listen, I was young. I thought I was being funny.”

“I was nineteen! I thought it was great!” He says. “I’m surprised you even had songs on there from before 2000!”

“Now that’s just mean. There were a few from that year.”

But he goes for the throat, pointing at my phone, still pressed against my chest. “You still have that playlist.”

“I… I might,” I confess.

“That one song. The ten minute long one. It was playing.”

I pull the headphones from the jack and press play.

_“— just to lie in my mistakes, and live with what I did to you, and all the hell I put you through—I always catch the clock, it’s 11:11 and now you want to talk—”_

We both gasp to speak as I turn down the volume, but he stops, looking increasingly terrified.

“No, go ahead,” I whisper.

“I liked the song, but I never thought of you when I heard it,” he says. He’s almost… heartbroken. “Now I do.”

I close my eyes. I can’t talk about this right now. Everything he says makes me that much closer to breaking, and I don’t want to. I can’t. He hurt me. He did unforgivable things.

“It pretty much outlines what we’ve put each other through, now doesn’t it?”

_“—they’ll never hurt you like I do—”_

I shut off my music app and turn the volume down. I don’t want to hear it anymore.

“I want to be able to work alongside you,” I say, trying to push the intimate moment from my mind. “I refuse to quit. I refuse to back down. I just… I want us to be civil. I need us to be civil. I made some promises, and I deserve at least that from you.”

He just nods. First, slightly, then more emphatic as he goes. “I can do that. I just—”

“That’s the best I can do for you,” I counter. He snaps his mouth shut. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go shoot my Colt.”

“Sure, sure. Okay,” he says, leaning down to pet Persephone. He starts just a bit when I cock my gun. I watch him leave. He doesn’t look over his shoulder as he goes.

“I understand you a lot more,” John says, shaking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah? And what do you think?”

“You’re… you’re softer than I thought.”

“Don’t insult me, John.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a good thing, Harper.”

I just plug my headphones back in, turn up the volume, and restart Something Corporate’s _Konstantine._

* * *

** _[Classified]_ **

_Two days later_

I’m summoned into the Phoenix without much fanfare. I think it’s been long enough. I’ve made my peace, I would think, but it depends on what Matty thinks.

I’m pretty sure when I get to the war room what it’s for. Matty stands inside, looking over a screen, almost worriedly, until I come in. It goes black when she does. I see something very quickly disappear. It looked like a map of Ghana, but I don’t want to ask questions. I’ve learned not to.

I slip into parade rest before I realize it, letting myself breathe. It’s a technique I’m working on. It seems to help.

“You’ve been doing better.”

“I’ve been trying.”

“It’s obvious. And it’s working.”

“I pulled some shit. I was in a dark place. You could say I saw the light.”

She paces around me, gesturing me to sit. I finally do, and she sits down next to me. “How’s therapy been?”

“You tell me.”

“Pretend I didn’t already get the report.”

“I made peace with the team. But you already knew that. I’m trying to sleep better, but you know that sometimes falls by the wayside. I finished my house, so now I have a nice, clean place to live. I couldn’t get a pet, so I got a cactus—”

“What did you name it?”

I stare at her blankly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What did you name your cactus?”

“I didn’t know that was a requirement. It doesn’t have a name. I don’t know—”

“I have one,” Matty offers. “How about… Walker.”

“Walker, Cactus Ranger,” I amend. “That sounds about right.”

“Thought you would like that one.”

I continue with my report. “I’ve been working on my breathing. I try not to spiral. Uh, I tried yoga, but that was not working for me, so I’ve started running more. I’m sure that’ll help me in the long run. I’ve been going to the range more—”

“That doesn’t seem like a calming experience.”

“Actually, uh, not the shooting range,” I correct. “The batting range. Actually, there’s a couple little leaguers that have been coming to me for help.”

“How does that go?”

“Pretty good,” I say. “I had to tell their parents that I was a security consultant at a think tank, but it seemed to be a good enough reason for them to let me handle their pre-teen boys.”

Matty actually looks happy. I don’t know how to react to it. “Thank you for talking to MacGyver. It makes things a lot easier.”

That hits a lot harder than I thought. I’m not sure I like the feeling. “I never said I would enjoy it, but I got it done.” The only question was whether it was enough.

“When Jack gets back, I need to send you two to Brazil.”

“That’s a lovely non-sequitur. You’re putting me back in the field?”

“I am. At the approval of Oversight.”

I smile. I look down at my hands. There’s enough scars on them for me to lose count.

“I’m ready, Matty.”


	12. Cymopoleia: Storm Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her first op back, AJ finds her house being seemingly burgled. Mac’s appearance unwanted is enough to frustrate her, but the reason why shocks her, and the waves of anger seem to subside, even if just for a moment.

_Studio City, CA_

**Mid November**

Arriving home after an op in the mid hours of the morning is bad enough, but it’s not my favorite thing when I come home and see lights on inside.

I drop my bag on the front porch and draw my Colt. Whoever it is sounds like they’re ransacking my kitchen, so I turn the handle on my door as slowly as possible.

Flattening myself against the wall, I inch my way towards the noise. Whoever it is, they’re not doing a great job keeping themselves quiet.

God, I’m so tired. I really can’t be doing this right now. I just want to go to sleep.

I turn the corner, and I see a familiar flash of blond and red buffalo check shirt, but I level my gun at them anyways.

“Whatever you’re looking for, drop it.”

“AJ, it’s me.” Mac barely stops whatever he’s doing, and he seems a lot less concerned about the fact that I’m leveling my gun at him. He just tiredly eyes me, then goes back to work. “Put that away, you don’t need it. I’ll… I’ll be out of here in a little while. I just… I just need to…” He draws to his full height, and starts methodically peering in my kitchen cabinets. I finally put my gun away, then go and grab my bag from the porch. After the perimeter is secure—and I should have checked, I would have seen his maroon Jeep parked on the street—I go back into the kitchen, where it’s still entirely unclear what he’s doing here.

“Mac, you can’t just walk in here. What the hell are you doing?”

“Do you have a basement, or—or a cellar?” He brushes his hair back. It’s gotten long again. I almost like it better than when it was short. Stop it. Stop looking at him like that.

“No, Mac. I do not have a basement or a cellar. What the hell are you doing?” I repeat.

“I should do one more sweep—”

He tries to move past me, but I grab him by the shoulders and bodily push him back into the kitchen. It jars him enough to shake his head out. I can tell from his eyes he hasn’t slept in a while. Right now isn’t the time to curse at him, to yell at him for what he’s done. He’s got enough on his mind.

“Mac, talk to me. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s okay. I went through the house, and Riley’s, and Jack’s and Leanna’s. I just figured since you weren’t home yet I still had time, I just—”

“What are you looking for, Mac?”  
He’s almost frantic, not looking at me. He’s looking up, up to the rafters, in every corner. “The Ghost said he left a bomb to kill me or someone I care about. Somewhere in the world, and I just… I had to be sure.”

“There’s not a bomb in my house,” I say, emphasizing each word, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“Babe, just let me… let me look…”

This time, I let him pass me. He slips back into the guest room. I’m left standing dumbly in the kitchen.

Babe. Now that’s something I haven’t heard for a while. I’m struck dumb. I’m struck dumb by the feeling it puts in my chest: heavy, hard, both cold and hot. I hate myself for hating it so much, and I hate myself for wanting him to say it again.

Someone he cared about.

I go back to Mac, who is fumbling around my fireplace.

“Mac. Mac, snap out of it. Mac!” I cry his name, and it’s enough to force him to his feet in front of me. “Mac, you’ve done enough. You’ve searched. I’m safe. It’s time for you to go home. It’s late, and I need to get some sleep. You do, too.”

With that, he runs his hands over his face, to his hair. He does a three-sixty, and I can see tears in his eyes. It’s like everything he’s been feeling wells up and releases as he stands in front of me.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. What I did to you… it was unforgivable. It was totally unforgivable, and you have the right to hate me forever for it. I just… I can’t do this without you anymore. I can’t come home from an op and not talk to someone about it. I can’t… I can’t disarm the most terrifying bomb I’ve ever faced and not be able to tell you how much it scared me. I can’t tell that to Bozer, or—or Riley, because I can’t have them knowing I second guess myself all the time. I can’t keep second guessing myself. Because I know leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I can’t undo it, no matter how hard I try.”

I’m almost not sure how to react. He just unloads, in a fast stream of consciousness, unable to look me in the eye. I know how he works: he’s awkward when he’s talking about his emotions, even when he means it. And I know he means it.

“You left,” is all I can muster. “You left, and you never planned on coming back. I thought… I thought you needed time. I thought you needed space. And that was fine with me. I understood that. But you replaced me. You replaced me so easily, even though you try to tell yourself you didn’t, and your girlfriend—”

“I broke up with Nasha,” he says, almost sheepishly. “And I was wrong. I tried. I tried to replace you, and I couldn’t. That’s what I meant. I never replaced you, I mean… I meant I couldn’t replace you.”

I hate the way it makes me feel. I’m… I’m almost hopeful. “What… what happened?” I say, crossing my arms.

“Matty… Matty didn’t tell you?” He’s exasperated, but not with me. “Murdoc… he found her and kidnapped her. I don’t know how he knew. I mean, I should have known he would go after her, I just….”

Oh my God. The blood rushes from my face. “It was my fault,” I realize out loud.

“How was it your fault?!”

“I told him,” I whisper. “When I was working… when I was working with Murdoc, I told him. I told him you had a girlfriend in Nigeria. It was my fault—”

“You can’t blame yourself,” he immediately says, but I don’t know how he could. “You know with two keystrokes he could have found out for himself.”

“As much as I resented her, I didn’t want her dead, Mac! I should have known better, God! I should have never worked with him. It sent me on a spiral I’m still trying to come back from.”

“AJ, you called it a suicide mission more than once. Did you… did you really want to die?”

“No,” I say shortly. “Not… I just… I didn’t plan on it, but I wasn’t going to fight it if it happened.”

“Why? Why the hell would you—”

“I have nothing. I had—I had nothing. I’m not…Mac, I’m trying. I’m trying to get over everything that happened and I’m still trying to… to deal with Jill’s death and you leaving and I just… I’m so sorry, Mac. Her kidnapping was my fault.”

He leans onto the top of the couch. “No, it was mine. She doesn’t… she doesn’t deserve that life,” he says. He still looks at his shoes.

Whatever pity I had for him slips away in a moment. “And I do?”

“You chose this life. You chose this life before I did. You know what the stakes are. She never did. And she’ll never understand it like you do.”

“Sure, but I also deserved better,” I say, crossing my arms. “I deserved so much better than what you did to me.”

“You’re right. You still deserve better,” he says, and I wait for more, but he doesn’t continue. He doesn’t give me some sort of excuse. “What I did to you… It was selfish. It was about me. It was exactly what my dad did. I didn’t think how it would affect you. Because I thought you would just bounce back. You’re… we’re different people, AJ.”

“I loved you, Mac.” For a second, he looks hurt, but that spy mentality kicks in and it slips away.

“You think I would say that to you and not mean it?”

“You think _I_ would say that to _you_ and not mean it?”

He turns to face me, and I resist the urge to haul out and slap him, because it’ll just turn into more and more violence. We’ve already done that. Instead, I let my fists go flat, fuming instead.

“You’ve always been better than me at hiding your feelings,” Mac says, looking down at my hands. “I don’t know what I could do to even start you on a path to forgiveness. You have every right to hate me,” he continues. “You have every right to tell me you never want to see me again. But you’re going to. Because I’m back at the Phoenix now. We may have to work together, and I want to make sure we can. But…”

He drifts, touching the mantle. His hand stops on the framed photo. When he lifts it, he almost deflates. It’s the one Riley gave to me: the paper clip frame, Mac and I at Disney. Whatever he was saying, it’s lost to time, because he drifts off, picking up the photo frame.

“I figured you would get rid of this.”

“Why?”

One word, and he’s standing there, speechless.

This time, though, the words come out of my mouth. I’m not going to let exhaustion stop me from saying my piece.

“I looked for you for years, Mac. For years. Do you think I would give up on you that easily? You may run from… from whatever we had, but I was never going to. You’re the only one—” I hear my voice crack. I’m getting too close. I try to force it down, but the waver just threatens to come back. “You and Jack. You’re the only ones left. You’re the only ones who knew me before that are still here with me. I can’t… I can’t lose myself like that again. You two are the only ones who connect me to the person I was before… before—”

“Before Tinos, before Rio, before Siberia, before Istanbul,” he recites. “Why do you want so badly to go back to the person you were before?”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I say. It’s like I’m ripping my skin open with my own fingernails. “I want… I want roots. I want something I can build on. And I feel like every day you’re gone, I’m losing that. I’m not sure I like how much I want to hate you, Mac,” I whisper. “I want to hate you. I want to tell you to get the fuck out of here and never come back for what you did. But I just can’t. Did she…did she mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “Nasha… she… she didn’t know about DXS or the Army or Phoenix or anything. And she didn’t have to know.”

“You wanted to lie to her the rest of her life?”  
“I didn’t plan that far ahead, AJ.”

“And that’s what scares me the most.”

“You know we don’t have the time to plan ahead,” he tries, and I immediately shake my head.

“No. No, Mac. That’s a choice. That’s not… That’s not anything to do with your job or her or anything but you. Your problem is, you see so many moves ahead, and all you can see is the things you might have to fix. You don’t think about the things you don’t have to fix. The good. It’s not all about fixing, Mac. We didn’t need fixing. Sometimes it’s about building. You know, I understood if you needed to go. I was prepared for that. I know how you work. I know you were trying to move on from me. But I waited for you. I… I’ve always tried to run away, but this time, I didn’t, and you did.”

“I tried to tell you not—”

“That is not good enough. That is not good enough for me.”

“Why?” He crosses his arms tight over his chest.

“Because I love you, Mac! Why the hell else would I want to fix this? To try? If I didn’t, I would have moved on from you a long time ago! I can’t let you go! I don’t want to! You’re the only one who gets it! But all you know how to do is run away. You said… you said you didn’t just want to make peace. I don’t know what you’re implying, I don’t know what you want, but by God, it put the faintest bit of hope in my heart and now I can’t let it go. And that’s the worst thing about this. I can’t let you go. I don’t want to. I never wanted to.”

This is a slightly different phrase than before. We both catch it. The dropping of a single letter is enough for the silence to wash over us.

“I… am so sorry.”

And that’s it. That’s all he says. No qualifiers. No excuses. It’s like I’m shot again.

“Where… where do we go from here?” He whispers.

“I… I don’t know.”

“AJ… I need you in my life,” he says. He’s so defeated. He’s so… exhausted. I never saw it before. He’s spiraling, just as much as I was. He’s just at a different point.

I close my eyes. I know what has to be done, but I hate that I feel this way.

I’ve hated him enough.

“I can forgive you,” I say. I don’t even know where this promise is coming from. I don’t even know if I can believe it myself. “I can, but it’s going to take me some time. I’m… I’m going to need time, Mac. I can’t—I don’t want to lose you. Not again. I can’t—I don’t want to do that again. I’ve hated you for long enough.”  
“I can’t lose you again, either,” he says. He takes a step towards me, and I don’t step backwards. It’s enough to make me draw a quick breath.

“I never wanted to give up on you,” I say, dropping my hand on his arm. He slowly uncrosses them at my touch, and as I drop my hand, his fingertips catch mine. “You… you know way too much.”

He lets out a chuckle. It’s a chuckle of relief, of lessening terror.

“I’m still pissed at you. I’m going to be. This isn’t over. This whole conversation… it’s not over, MacGyver.”

“I guess… after all that shit with my dad, and then Phoenix…” He drifts again, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know I still had people to leave behind.”

A familiar sentiment, to say the least. I close my eyes, trying to force the tears away, but he moves my chin up to look at him. It’s the first time I feel like we’ve made eye contact that didn’t result in glares since he came home. Four months. I think it’s been long enough.

We both realize at the same moment that we have a decision to make.

I’m glad we both make the same one.

He takes my breath away by drawing my chin towards his. This is a different kiss: not the goodbye kiss he gave me six months ago. Not the daily kisses he would give me as he left out my front door. Not the kisses he would give me in bed at night. No; he kisses me like he should have kissed me years ago: with a strength that I never expected out of him. It’s like he thinks if he doesn’t kiss me now, the right way, he’ll lose any chance he has at getting me back forever.

That wasn’t even an option, I thought, as it slips through my fingers like something I never wanted but knew I deserved.

I actually gasp when he finally breaks from me. He withdraws his hands, and they’re left in the air, like he’s surrendering, his entire body tensing like he had done something so wrong, he had to freeze before he could face the consequences.

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll just—I should go. I’ll go.”

I’m left in silence as he heads out my cerulean front door without another look back.

It takes me a minute to recover, but eventually, I make it to the bathroom. I feel so damn wrecked, and whatever just happened didn’t help at all.

No wounds to note, thank God, but I start my shower, blasting the cold water as I get undressed and slip inside.

I wish I knew how to process what just happened. I don’t even know where that leaves us, to be honest. I reminded him that I love him. But I didn’t lie. I didn’t lie to him, and that was the key. I still love him. And I hate myself for it.

We did reach something, I think, and as much as I hate him for what he did, I feel the hatred for him slipping away like the Brazilian dust from my skin.

I just need sleep. I need sleep and the dawn and I’m hoping it’ll all become clear to me. Right now, I’m too tired. I’m too tired to process it all.

I get out of the shower, throw on my pajamas, and go to turn off the lights Mac had left on. I really hope he’s okay. He seemed pretty manic, and stressed out, and I should really text him to make sure he gets home—

As I head back to my bedroom through the now dark living room, there’s a heavy sounding knock at my door.

My Colt sits on my side table, but it’s close by as I peek out of the side window.

I see the red plaid. It takes everything in me not to throw open the door. He steps inside, and I lean into the blue door, locking it tight.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he says. “I shouldn’t have left now, and I shouldn’t have left then.”

He looks desperate. He looks sad. He looks apologetic.

Dammit, AJ. The welling in my heart is too much to bear.

I pull him back into me, bodily, by the collar. By the time I catch my breath once again, I’m grasping him so tightly, I don’t know if I can let go. I don’t want to forgive him. The grudge I had, it’s what was comfortable all those years. I don’t know how to handle forgiveness, but I’m willing to try.

He did come back. I see the panic welling in his eyes for a moment, as we hold each other at a hair’s breadth, until I nearly stumble over my own feet pulling him back towards my bedroom door.

The logical part of my brain is just screaming I shouldn’t do this, but it’s so easy for me to shut her up.

He kicks off his boots as I bounce onto my bed, and he’s laughing as he scrambles to unbutton and pull off his shirt.

“I am tired and hungover enough from Brazil to think this is a good idea, so why don’t hate ourselves in the morning, yeah?”

He climbs onto the bed with me, and I reach over to his belt, undoing it with a bit more glee than I probably should have.

“What were you and Jack doing in that bar?”

Instead of answering, I pull his belt from the loops and toss it on the opposite side of the bed.

“What if we need that later—” he says, but I cut him off by pulling him on top of me.

When he kisses me, he pulls me off the bed, into his arms. In the dark, with the light from the streetlamp coming in through the curtains and the new blue paint on the walls, I feel like I’m underwater. The light shimmers against his skin, sparkles against his hair. I feel like I was drowning under the weight of myself and he’s the only thing that can keep me afloat.

He brings me to my knees, leading me with his mouth, and he finally pulls my t-shirt off. It clings to my body where my wet hair stuck to it, but it too ends up on the floor.

I want to want to stop this, but I know I’m not going to.

I’ve felt like I was drowning before. For the first time in months, I feel like I’m swimming. I’m not yet out of the water, but I can breathe again.

He slips off the bed to take off his pants, and I take off my underwear, then throw him a condom. It hits him in the chest and makes him laugh again, and for the first time in months, I laugh too.

I can hate myself later.

He joins me back on my bed, pulling me back into him. The fire in his eyes is back. I’ve missed seeing it. He slips his hands on my hips, and with that, he pushes me into the covers and slips into me. As I arch into him, instead of letting me bury my hands in my hair, he clasps them in his, pushing me down into the mattress. I’m almost restrained, and I let him, because he takes me slow and deep. This is a talking pace. He’s got me right where he wants me, but it works both ways.

He leans down to kiss me again, and I let him, because I can’t give myself any other choice. Half of me wants to fight, half of me wants this more than I could ever admit to myself, and so far, that half is winning.

“This does not mean you are off the hook,” I say. He suddenly looks terrified, shifting his pace a little. “You are not forgiven, Angus. Don’t think this changes anything.”

“I never expected it to change anything,” he says. “Remember? We don’t use sex as currency.”

“I know, but this feels a little like currency.”  
“It’s an effect, sure, but it’s not like I’m gonna use it against you later.”

“I could use you against me right now—”

In response, he lets go of my hands and slides his into my hair, behind my neck, propping me up so I can reach his mouth. He kisses me again, kisses my cheek, my neck, anything his mouth can reach.

Before I realize it, I find myself grasping his biceps, our faces just breaths away but not touching.

“I know we just had our talk about sexual currency, but is it helping my case at all?”

“Dammit, Mac, you’re being awkward.”

He smiles, and I can breathe in the water again. But he shifts, he moves one of his hands away, and slips in between us, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. I gasp, arching into him as he runs circles over me with his thumb. What he had been doing is amplified, like he threw something electric in the water.

My heavy breaths seem enough for him, as his rakish, proud smile seems to grace his face. He knows he’s won this one, but the war isn’t over.

“Fine, you get a merit badge, okay?” I finally say, and this time, he lets out a loud laugh, bringing his hands back to mine.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” I say, but he doesn’t move.

“Hey, if our argument is on pause, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be done with you right away.”

He slides his hands down my sides, readjusts my hips, and I’m arching into him once more.

“Mac, I swear to God if you—”  
“If I what?”  
I can’t finish my thought, and I don’t even know what I had planned to say. I lean into his waiting hand, closing my eyes tight as my body begins to shudder. He drops back down to me, holding my face in his hands, studying my every breath as I feel my chest flush, rise and fall, press into him as I finally give in.

It’s like the hurricane waves have passed, the tsunami has crested, and now all we have left is to weather the storm.


	13. Pseudea: Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what AJ is calling a “mistake”, Matty has sent Mac and AJ on a number of missions together, culminating in a simple pickpocketing trip to Boston. But of course, it’s not all it seems, and Matty’s lies lead them to the truth: they’re not allowed to come home until they come to some sort of conclusion on their professional relationship. The real question, though, was about their personal one.

_[Classified]_

**Mid December**

It’s been nearly a month since Mac and I made some sort of breakthrough. We still haven’t talked about it. I don’t even know what to say. I’m holding my ground on the fact that I’m still irritated with him; it’s not going to be that easy, but we just hadn’t had the time yet.

I swear, Matty does this on purpose. We didn’t need a solid cover. We didn’t need a cover together. But naturally, she forces us together.

It’s the fourth mission since we slept together that we’ve been forced to work together, and each one nearly ended in disaster. I know Matty knows, but I don’t want to admit it.

I sigh, slip into parade rest in the war room, and let Matty continue.

“We need to get this black book back from Joseph Achille, Jr.,” she says. The name sounds familiar, and already it’s heading down a road I’m not sure I like. “We need you to get it back.”

“What’s in the book?” Mac asks.

“Not important,” Matty says. “This is merely a smash and grab. Get the book, make sure he doesn’t realize you took it, and disappear.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, although I feel as though I already know the answer.

“Boston,” Matty says, entirely too pleased with herself. “JJ, as his friends affectionately call him, likes to spend his nights at the Royale. If you’re quick, you can get in and get out in less than 24 hours. Wheels up in twenty.”

Neither of us move. I don’t know why Mac doesn’t want to move, but I still have questions.

“You have something to say?”

“Why do you keep doing this? You saw what happened in Porto-Novo,” I say.

“She tried to put a vodou curse on me,” Mac adds, almost conversationally. He’s so unaffected by it, it nearly makes me laugh.

“I know,” Matty says. “But—”

“Ouagadougou,” I counter.

“That was an accident,” Mac begins, slipping from parade rest and turning to me. “If she hadn’t made us be fake married—again—they would have never tried to kill you—”

“Djibouti.”

Matty takes a beat. “Nothing happened in Djibouti.”

“Oh, nothing happened in Djibouti. I just like saying it.”

“I don’t care. You’re working together. Get going. Fifteen to wheels up.”

“If I die because of this, it’s on you,” I say.

“It always is,” Matty says.

We both head out of the war room. Unfortunately, I can’t penalize him for sleeping with me. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I should have never let it get that far, and while I knew I would hate myself later, it is what it is. I’m not going to blame him. I’ve blamed him for enough.

I just don’t know why we both have to go on this mission. It’s going to be quicker and easier if it’s just one of us.

I’m not going to fight her now. I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to get us to talk. I can see it now, not that I like it. Regardless, I’m going to use this to my advantage, and I grab the dress Riley had set out for me.

Okay. Maybe this is going to be a bit more fun than I had thought. As I pack up the rest of my firearms, I head down the hallway to the plane, and I almost run into Mac.

He’s freaking out. I know he is. And, I’m realizing, it’s just the two of us.

“Matty has ulterior motives,” I say quickly. He opens the door for me and I slip through, heading for the jet.

“What do you mean—”

“This isn’t just a mission to her. She’s got something else up her sleeve.”

“Of course, she does. She’s Matty. Why else is she sending us, together, to Boston?”

I glance at him. “Did you have something to do with this?”

“No more than you did.”

I sigh and get on the plane. It’s going to be a much longer flight than I expected.

* * *

**Boston**

_Four hours later_

My fear about Matty’s dark machinations is realized when we make it up to the hotel room. I roll my eyes. There’s one bed. I know for a fact she did it on purpose, but I busy myself with getting ready for a club tonight.

I go all out with this dress. In fact, Riley picked it out: definitely not my style, but it’ll get the job done tonight. All black, not even to my fingertips on my thighs—not even a holster this time. From my hip to my shoulder, it’s all cut out and made of mesh. Only a few bits of crisscrossing ribbon cut through the illusion. Instead of hiding something in my dress, though, I’ve got room in my over the knee black leather boots. I braid one side of my hair back, securing it with my hair clip that turns into a multi tool, then finish my look off with a smoky eye and my trusty oxblood lipstick.

When he leans against the door to the bathroom, I notice he’s in his trusty blue suit. Not one to slip from tradition, I see. But this time, we don’t match. I don’t care to. I think he’s finally realized that, once I slip my handguns into the tops of my boots.

We both speak at the same time:

“How do you want to do this?”

“You look incredible.”

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear it, because he almost looks like he’s disappointed in himself for saying it. After a moment of silence, though, he decides he stands by it and straightens.

I, on the other hand, decide to ignore it.

“I think we should split up,” I say, hiding my butterfly knife in my bra. “How’s your pickpocketing skills?”

He seems distracted. I still ignore it. “Uh, well, good enough. What are you thinking?”

“We don’t go in together. I try to distract him, while you pickpocket him.”

It seems like a good enough plan for him. I’m not sure he likes going in separately, but I don’t give him much of a choice.

I touch up my lipstick one last time. I finally look how I feel. But I can’t share with him that feeling. Not yet. I don’t know what we’re going to be after all this, but I still feel like whatever we do together still has the opportunity to burn down everything.

“I’m going to go ahead,” I say, making sure my earpiece is on and working. “Stay on comms. Stay fluid.”

“Maybe we should rethink this,” he starts. “Maybe we should go in together. You can still con him, I can still pickpocket, but I would just feel better if—”

“If we don’t stick together, then we have two separate attempts at him. If he clocks us together, it’s one shot. I would figure you would think of something like this.”

“There’s no need to get defensive.”

“This should have been a one-person job,” I say. “There’s no reason for you to be here. It’s Matty’s way of either pushing us to work together again or force a confrontation. Or she still doesn’t trust me. I don’t care. We do it my way. It’s the best way. It’s the most effective way. If you don’t like it, tough.”

“You won’t even give me a chance to—”

“No, I won’t. Let’s get this done and get back to LA.”

He just nods, a little defeated. I head out of the hotel. Of course he would think so. I still don’t trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me. I have to admit that it’s perfectly valid, albeit a little frightening.

One of these days, we’re going to have to talk about it. I’m just not ready to do it.

"Comm check. 2562 Little Owl," I whisper, and I hear Matty's exasperated sigh. 

"_When are you two going to stop fighting?"_

"When you stop forcing us to stop fighting."

"_You know I'm going to keep doing this until you stop."_

"You know I can fight back just as hard."

Regardless, it’s about a ten-minute ride in a cab to the Royale, and join the line heading inside. I’m immediately clocked by the bouncer. I’m not surprised. I have the look of a high roller. He nods his head at me, so I head in his direction.

“You can go ahead inside,” he says, giving me a once over.

Like a warm coat on a cold day, my old accent comes out. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Head to the VIP table.”

“Who am I gonna find there?”

He doesn’t answer. He just ushers me inside. It looks like any number of the clubs I had been in before: rich, pretty people; bright, flashing lights. Loud, booming bass. This time, though, on the stage is a number of couches: it’s got to be the VIP section. I decide to do some recon, and head to the bar. On the stage, I see a young man surrounded by a trio of women dressed similarly to me.

It has to the be the mark. Where else would he be?

I make sure I can easily get to my gun as I weave through the people dancing. I was told to head towards the VIP section, so that’s what I do.

“_Don’t approach until I get inside,”_ Mac’s voice comes through. I roll my eyes.

“I could get this in my hand before you even get here.”

“_I don’t feel safe. He’s got too many armed guards.”_

“The bouncer told me to head up to VIP.”

_“That’s fair enough but I am not comfortable with this—”_

“I don’t care what you’re comfortable with!” I snap. “Matty, if you’re listening, I’m lodging a formal complaint. This is ridiculous. I can run solo on shit like this. It’s unfair.”

“_That’s not very appropriate ‘formal complaint’ language,” _she says. “_Stop fighting.”_

“Who the fuck—”

_“Language,” _Matty chides.

“Whom the fuck—”

_“Can we keep this channel clear?”_ Mac grumbles. “_It’s hard enough to hear while this EDM is playing.”_

"I'm surprised you know what EDM is."

_"Just because you think I'm an out of touch millennial doesn't mean it's true. Besides, you're technically a millennial."_

"Oh, whatever."

I decide a direct approach is more appropriate. I head up to the VIP section and am stopped by security.

“I was told by the gentleman outside to make my way to the VIP section.”

The guard looks back, over his shoulder, to the man surrounded by more women than he could handle. When he looks over to me, I give him a very obvious once over. It’s enough to make him nod.

And I’m through. Maybe this is easier than I expected.

I saunter up to the crime boss’s son and proceed to sit down on the edge of the couch, appearing as aloof as possible.

“You! What’s your name?” He finally asks.

“What do you want it to be?”

“Oh, so you’re going to let me choose?”

I glance to him, but I don’t smile. Even the girls around him are interested in what I’m going to do next. They’re all in sequins and low-cut tops and I appear, dressed in black, like an angel of death.

So I stand up, walk over, and sit down on the table in front of him, forcing him him to look at me directly. I resist the urge to pull my gun from my boot as I cross my legs in front of him.

“Your name is more important.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s the name I’m going to be screaming later.”

“_Jesus, AJ, not subtle.”_ Matty says. She chuckles a little.

The mob boss’s son shifts a little in his seat. Maybe he’s not used to this kind of direct behavior. Maybe he’s not used to someone coming at him so strongly. Regardless, he sets down his drink next to me and leans forward.

“And what makes you think you could handle me?” He says.

“And what makes you think you could handle me?” I say, standing up and putting a finger under his chin. I lead him upward to look at me, and without missing a beat, I strut to the edge of the stage, turn around to face him, and jump straight down onto the main dance floor.

“That should get him going,” I murmur, slipping into the gyrating people.

“_I’m in. Headed for you.”_

“Good luck finding me,” I say, trying to slip between people and head towards the DJ. In fact, the closeness of people makes this tactical decision a bad one. I don’t know how much longer I can handle being in this gyrating mass of too much cologne, but I have to make a good impression.

Still, the panic sets in. Too many lights. Too many colors. Too many people. Breathe, AJ. Breathe.

“_Where are you?”_ I hear, barely, over the pulsing EDM.

The colors start to swirl. The panic starts to set in. I'm not usually in places like this. It's reminding me of too many things I had pushed down. “Near… near the front.”

“_Are you okay?”_

I try to keep my cover, dancing with the nearest group to me. I’m welcomed in, even though my heart pounds. My heart pounds with the music, and not the good kind. I stave off the feelings of utter panic. He’s on his way, I remind myself. He’s here. He’s coming.

The purple, green, and blue pulsating lights match the low key vibe from the music. It’s slower. It’s calmer. I need that for now, as I jump along with the group. It almost feels like we’re in slow motion, until I feel a hand slip into mine.

I turn around, and Mac is there. He’s there, in blue, matching the flashing lights. He’s always there, I remind myself. Even when he’s gone, he’s in the forefront of my mind. Even as I start to panic, as I feel the memories and flashbacks build from the loud noise and flashing lights and fog machines he’s there.

And I can breathe. Like I’m in the water, treading water, not drowning anymore.

“You good?” he mouths. I can’t hear him. I’m deaf as the music builds. He pulls me close to him, his hand on my waist, as we try to blend in with the crowd. I nod, the flashing light just as bad as it was before, but now it seems a little duller.

He just peers down at me. I feel like the mission, for a moment, was on hold. He slips his hand under my hair, pulling me closer. I let him, I close my eyes, but I know we have to focus. I can’t do this right now. I can’t forget what we’re here for, and I know what I have to do.

But there’s a voice in my head. She’s screaming at me. _Let it go, A. He loves you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love you. _It sounds like my mother. Maybe I’m too close. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to Boston.

I spin around, dancing with Mac as the music continues to build. His hands slide down my waist and to my hips, keeping me in place in front of him. I feel his breath on my neck, and I lull back into him, but it’s really an excuse to talk to me.

“Where is he?”

I feel the mark’s eyes on me. I know he has to be watching.

“The jealous one on the stage,” I say, leaning into him. We’re pressed together in the horde. I can’t complain.

I look back up to the VIP section. He’s distracted by me, the rest of the girls looking increasingly angry as all his attention is on the dance floor.

“He’s watching,” I murmur, leaning back harder into Mac.

“I have an idea.”

“Okay—”

He spins me back to face him. I don’t like this. I have to actually look at him. But I think I know what he’s doing. I rest my arms on his shoulders, bringing him closer to me.

I look up to him, I hold my breath, because I know exactly what he’s doing. There’s only one thing that will get the mark down here, in a vulnerable place, and it’s jealousy fueled lust.

I’m kissing Mac before I even realize it. I’m nearly on my tip toes, trying to reach his height. This is the second time he’s kissed me like his life depended on it. This is far more than just trying to con a mark. This is borne out of a yearning to prove something, and it has nothing to do with the mission at hand.

When we break, we’re not dancing anymore. There’s only one thing I want to do, but we can’t abandon the mission. Which mission, I’m not sure at this point: the one Matty assigned us, or my constant battle against wanting to fall back in love with Mac.

_You’re not falling _back_ in love with him, A_. _You never left._

I close my eyes against my mother’s voice. Whether it’s her or my conscience, I don’t know. But she’s right. And he just keeps reminding me. I’m not sure whether this fight is worth fighting for anymore.

_Hasn’t he been through enough? Haven’t you been through enough?_

“He’s coming,” Mac mouths. When I turn back around, the mark has hopelessly pursued me to the dance floor sans guards. I immediately grind against him, and he drags his lips down my neck. Mac hovers closely, keeping a watch on the idiot’s guards, but it’s no use. I slip my hand into the mark’s jacket and pull out the tiny black book. It’s in Mac’s hands as he meanders, seemingly jealous and forgotten, off the dance floor. As the song ends, I hear two voices, one in my ear and one out of the man in front of me.

“_We’ve got the book, Matty. Headed back to the hotel. AJ isn’t far behind.”_

“Come back up to the VIP section with me.”

I give him a smile. “Let me get a drink, and I’ll meet you there.” I barely give him a chance to even counter me. I just slip through the crowd, slip through to the front of the building, and with a gasp, I’m out in the cold Boston air.

It’s just now, at nearly midnight, I realize how terrifyingly cold it is. Still, I start walking, heading down the street until I see a flash of blue at Boylston and Tremont. I turn off my comms, and he does too.

He falls into step next to me.

“Are you cold?”

“Just a little.”

Without missing a beat, he offers me his jacket, slinging it over my shoulders carefully. “It’s in the inside left pocket. Just so you know.”

“Did you look inside?”

“Not sure what it’s all about. Looks like some sort of gun running. Mostly numbers. Not sure what it has to do with Phoenix.”

“The Boy Scout, of course, can’t not look at the book of codes.” I look up to him and chuckle. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

He tries to wipe it off, but he doesn’t quite get it. I stop us on the sidewalk for a moment, cleaning the swath of red from his skin. My fingers linger there for longer than I want, but I quickly draw away. I need a distraction.

To our left is the Boston Common, and I don’t have time or breath to make fun of him anymore.

Before, when we got here, it didn’t feel real. We had a mission to do. But now, now that it’s over, I see the city I had left years before. The yearning comes screaming back, and it hits me like a ton of bricks.

This is the first I had been back since dad died. Since Mac and I met. No mission had brought us here before, and I think this was contrived by Matty.

And I can’t seem to fault her for it.

* * *

**XV Beacon Hotel, Boston**

_Later_

Matty’s face jumps up on the screen. I hold up the black book for her to see.

“Wanna give us something a little more challenging?”

_“Oh, I’ve got one for you,”_ she says.

Mac shifts so he’s closer to me and can see the screen. I find myself glaring at him for a moment, and I hear Matty scoff.

Instead, though, Mac speaks up. “When’s exfil?”

“_There’s not going to be an exfil,” _She says. _“Not until you work this out. Your relationship, as it stands, is a liability.”_

“Work what out, exactly?” I say, straightening. I don’t know if I can handle being in the same room with him for more than six hours without doing something I might regret.

“_You two fighting, it’s causing more than just mission problems. It’s time you both step up and work it out.”_

“Matty, you know we can just book our own flights,” Mac responds matter-of-factly.

_“Not if I put you on the no-fly list and circulate your pictures to local law enforcement.”_

“That would make things decidedly more difficult,” Mac says, leaning back and shutting his mouth.

“So is Phoenix now funding this operation to what, get us back together?”

“_For the time being, yes,” _Matty says. “_Both Oversight and I have agreed it is a decent use of time and money.”_

I glance at Mac. “Mom and Dad sent us on a vacation because they want us to stop fighting.”

Mac’s serious face immediately shifts as he bursts out laughing.

_“Look, you two lovebirds can either work this out in Boston or at a black site. It’s your choice.”_

I toss the phone at Mac and head towards the bathroom. I hear his voice as I start to take down my hair.

“I’ll call once we reach some sort of conclusion,” he mutters.

_“Let’s hope it’s not where one of you is in jail and the other is dead.”_

“That would be preferable, yeah.”

“_Good luck, Blondie. You’re gonna need it._”

He hangs up and makes his way back to the bathroom. When I see his reflection in the mirror, I can take him in without making it obvious: he slips his hands into his pants pockets, the typical vibrant blue suit he wears when he’s required on ops. This time, though, his sleeves are rolled to the elbow haphazardly. He watches me as I unbraid my hair and let it fall away, crimped and curly.

I choose not to engage. Instead, I start taking my makeup off, leaving black and red streaks on the washrag. It takes me a while to get rid of all of it, but when I do, I feel a little better.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly.

“No,” I say. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I look at him through the reflection on the mirror. I don’t know if I can look at him directly.

“Because I’m afraid I’m going to do something I regret.”

“And what might that be?”

“Sleep with you or forgive you.”

He visibly straightens, so I continue, pulling my hair out of the way so I can reach my zipper. Without missing a beat, he steps forward and undoes it for me. I don’t thank him. Instead, I find my bag and start changing out of this tight nightmare. Mac, he hovers, but he gives me enough space, even turning around when I change into the leggings and t-shirt I had brought to sleep in.

“Is it even an option?” He finally asks, staring into the cold fireplace.

“Since one of them already happened, I’m assuming you’re talking about the latter. I don’t know, Mac. I don’t know. After tonight, I… I..." I struggle for a moment, because the flashing lights are back, and it throbs against my temple. I rub my eyes, and he looks at me knowingly all of a sudden.

"Harps, are you okay? Are you having flashbacks again?"

I don't shake my head, but I don't say yes, either. It had started after he left. It had started after Istanbul, to be honest, but a year and a half has gone by and I still can't shake the feeling. Everything we do seems to make it worse. The lights and music at the club tonight set me off this time. It could be anything that sets me off next time. 

"I'm okay," I say weakly. I don't mean to sound so sad, but his face shifts to one of pity, and I hate it. "Okay. Fine. Fine. I almost had another flashback on the dance floor, but suddenly, you were there. The only thing that stopped me from losing it was knowing you were on your way. And you can leave how many times, and you can come back how many times, but I can’t push you from my mind. You’re always there. I just hate it.”

“Hate… hate what, exactly?”

“How I don’t hate you. How I can’t hate you.”

He takes a heavy breath. It feels like minutes before he speaks.

“I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he finally says. “I know it’s going to take a long time to earn back your trust. But I want to. I need you to understand that. I want to.”

“And I want to trust you. I just need a reason to.”

He chuckles, just once, before looking back at the fireplace.

“I’ll take the couch,” I say, finding my phone charger in the expansive mess at the bottom of my bag.

“No, you take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“What, are you starting your penance now?”

He breaks into a smile, a poignant smile, and it very nearly breaks my heart.


	14. Saman: The Rising Morning Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ quickly realizes that Mac has decided to take full advantage of their trip to Boston and plans out a walk down memory lane. But as the day dawns, is it enough to make AJ start to heal from his rash decision to leave?

_Boston_

**Mid December**

Mac’s early morning stirring wakes me up, and then I can’t get back to sleep. I don’t even know where to start. Matty won’t let us come home until we reach some sort of conclusion, and if I have any extended conversation with him, I’m either going to fight him or…

Well, you get the idea.

Once I’m up, showered, and dressed, it seems like Mac might have something to say to me, so I wait for him to build up the courage.

“Do you… do you want to get some breakfast?”

“That’s it? That’s where you’re starting?”

He just shrugs. He’s already got his coat on, and I’m suddenly glad I brought one. “Talking’s not going to do us much good, at least until you have some food and coffee, so I figured…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, slipping on my boots. I’m not used to layering this much, but I can’t say that I mind, not until we step outside onto the street.

“Jesus, it’s cold.”

“You’re not used to it?” Mac murmurs. He starts us down Beacon, and I’m skeptical. He walks with a purpose. He knows where he’s going.

“It’s been almost ten years since I’ve been back, remember? And I had been in South America or the Middle East for the five years before that.”

“So it’s really been fifteen years since you’ve been around these parts?” He says, hailing a cab. He sounds nervous. Everything he says sounds… thought out.

“What have you got planned?” I accuse. He opens the car door for me, and I slip inside. I’m still skeptical, but whatever he’s doing, it’s still kind of cute.

Stop it. You haven’t argued yet.

“You’ll see.”

I’ve already seen enough as we go over Longfellow Bridge. It’s enough to legitimately take my breath away as I turn over my shoulder to see the city. Boston. Even the air tastes different than LA. It’s like I can feel myself drawn to the place, even after all the time running.

It’s a familiar feeling.

But we get off into Memorial Drive and the buildings of the People’s Republic loom around us, and when we turn onto Mass Ave, I realize what Mac is doing. We get out in front of the Rogers Building. I’m almost paralyzed by the thought.

Mac is already halfway up the stairs. I almost can’t follow him. If this entire day is going to be like this, I don’t know how I’m going to continue.

“AJ? You okay?”

I almost see myself. The dress blues, ten years younger. I take the steps, following Mac.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.”

When we get inside, it looks the same. I look up into the ceiling, the tall pillars. I never appreciated it before. Now, it feels different. The same lobby, the same chairs, the same everything. And we had gotten there early enough, it wasn’t nearly as busy as it was the last time I was here.

My fingers trail against an empty table. It almost makes me panic again. I sat in that chair, watched over the people walking in…

He had looked so young. I’m sure I did, too. I had significantly less scars. Less gunshot wounds. Less hope.

I can almost hear it in my head: _“are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, I’m fine.”_

So dumb, so innocuous, ten years ago.

Ten years ago, here. Talking about chaos theory. It’s like what James called us. A mathematical constant.

I see Mac, in line at the café counter. He looks back to me, that lock of hair falling over his face, and he breaks into a smile.

This day is going to be much harder than I thought.

* * *

The next taxi takes us all the way up to the North End. This time, we ride in silence, at least until Mac gets a text from Matty.

“She wants to know how it’s going.”

I keep staring out the window until I see the Bunker Hill Monument. I don’t want him to see the tears well in my eyes. We’re going through the streets I used to run.

But I need to give him an answer.

“It’s going.”

* * *

Mac continue investigating the monument, but I’ve been here before. I know this place. It’s as familiar as the back of my hand.

I leave him behind, just for a moment, as I wander up Monument Square. I hear him call after me, as I turn down Tremont Street, but I can’t respond. It’s like my feet carry me. All the times I had run these streets in the dark. Even so long ago.

“Where are you going—”

“I just need to… just let me find it,” I whisper. The small sidewalks barely allow Mac and I to walk side by side, but we somehow make it work as I find the street—in reality, barely an alleyway—called Nearen Row. It dead ends on Ferrin Street.

83 has barely changed. Same turquoise siding, the color fading in places. The same yellow door.

“You see the electric box?” I say, pointing to the circular, painted over box under the second-floor window. I’m almost out of breath. I didn’t run to get here, but it still makes my heart pound. “I used to use that as a foothold when I climbed out. You can see the scratches from the one time I nearly fell and had to use the windowsill to catch my fall.” I nearly fall over myself, trying to point out out the front door. “And I painted the door. I hated how it was grey, and so when I was sixteen, I got in trouble with the landlord because I painted it bright yellow. She keeps repainting it that color,” I realize.

“This is where you grew up,” he murmurs. “Do you wanna see if anyone is home?”

“What? No. No. It’s fine. We should… we should keep going,” I say, starting down the street. “It’s not home anymore.”

* * *

**VX Beacon, Boston**

_The next day_

The rest of yesterday went off quietly. He took me to U.S.S. Constitution, we walked around the North End, and went back to the hotel without speaking a word about the schism between us.

In reality, I couldn’t. He had hit me with so many memories, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so we went to bed quietly and without discussion.

The next morning, he wakes me up early again with his fumbling. We start at the Boston Massacre site and Faneuil Hall. I’m not sure how much he saw when he was living here, but it’s old hat to me by now.

At one point, Matty texts me, asking how it’s going. I text her back.

_I’m not sure._

It almost feels like we’re happy again, just for the time being. Like a war of attrition, he’s wearing me down. Or, at least, he’s wearing me down enough to have a conversation.

Whatever he’s doing, it’s working. I’m just not sure I want to admit it to him.

When I look up from my phone, he’s holding a door open. I know this area of town. I know this place.

“I had no idea it was still open,” I murmur, walking inside. Of course, it’s busy, but God, it’s like walking into a time machine. I’m almost not sure what to do, but Mac guides me to the bar seating. The waitress immediately pours us cups of coffee. I warm my hands on it, and it feels like I’m seventeen again.

“How did you remember?”

“You wrote it in a letter. You always said we would come here someday,” he says, adding his two sugars and tossing me one. “You, me, and a diner breakfast in Boston.”

I look back at my hands, to the menu below. God, he’s trying so hard. He’s truly trying, and I don’t know why I keep fighting it.

“So, what’s next on your list?” I ask. It’s the most we’ve really said to each other all morning, but it’s fine. He perks up. He doesn’t care. I’m opening up, and it’s all he can do to keep up.

“Uh, well, the Old North Church,” he says, checking his phone again. I’m not sure what it’s for, but he keeps checking. “I’ve never been, so I figured…”

“It is pretty cool,” I admit. It’s just down the street, so it’s no wonder we stopped here. There’s quite a few places he’s said he hasn’t visited before. I guess sightseeing wasn’t high on his list while he was at MIT, and he kind of left with a bang. We order our food, and I start to piece it together.

“We’re doing your shortened version of the Freedom Trail,” I accuse. He nearly chokes on his coffee. “The birthday promise you made me after Istanbul.”

“Maybe. Maybe a little. I didn’t know… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Besides sit and talk?”

“Besides that.”

I turn towards him on the bar stool. “Why… why don’t we try?”

* * *

I don’t know how long we’re there. In fact, I forget why we’re fighting for the time being. But eventually, we wrap up our brunch, leave the busy restaurant, and head down to the Old North Church.

It’s interesting, watching Mac. He’s engaged. He’s interested in the story, in the architecture. We almost feel… normal. But he’s distracted. Something else is up. By the time we go back outside, in the cold, Mac checks his watch, then messes with his phone. I lean against the fence, waiting for him to look up.

“Sorry, I’m getting an Uber. We’re not walking to the next place. Not in this cold.”

He just waits, watching his phone screen.

“Why are you doing all this?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks down at the ground, and I can see a slight smirk on his lips. “It’s Boston. We might as well make good use of our time here.”

“You’re taking me back to all the locations I’ve either written to you about or would be important to me. Mac, I’m not stupid.”

A car pulls up, and he say something to the driver before opening up the back door.

“I think you’re really gonna like this next stop.”

He gestures for me to get in. I roll my eyes and get into the back seat. Mac starts talking to the Uber driver, but I watch out the window. We slip past Copp’s Hill, and eventually, we start heading out of downtown.

I drink it in. Almost ten years since I had been back. Almost ten years since Mac and I met. So much has happened since I ran the streets, I don’t know if it would ever feel the way it did before.

We get on 28, with the Charles River to our right, and I watch the snowy gray fly by.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. He has to know I know. Every single thing he has planned in these past two days has been something important. It’s been something meaningful. And each time, each place we go, I feel my hatred for him slipping away.

I’m not sure where we’re headed, and we make an unexpected turn onto Charlesgate. We follow the road I’ve taken thousands of times. Sure, it’s the dead of winter, sure, it’s closed, but I can feel in the pounding of my chest the overwhelming sense of home.

I’m already crying as he turns us onto Ipswich. I can see her from here, the Green Monster, Williamsburg, the Lone Red Seat, the Triangle. Pesky’s Pole.

It’s when Mac thanks the driver and opens the door to help me out is that I realize what he’s doing. We’re on the sidewalk when Mac starts walking towards the gate. I can’t move.

“Mac. Mac, no. Mac. Seriously? Mac?”

Her beautiful green walls shoot towards the blue-gray sky before us. Mac walks backwards on the sidewalk.

“Are you coming, or not?”

“Can you… can you just give me a sec?”

He jogs across the street, and I see a guy about our age there. Mac gives him a big hug. They speak for a moment before Mac turns to me.

“Are you coming?”

“Mac,” I chide.

“Let’s go,” he says as I step towards me. I walk trance-like to Gate D. Mac introduces me to his friend, who says something about being a classmate from MIT, Daniel Beecham, who now works in baseball analytics. We head through the stands and break out into a silent, empty, beautiful field.

I’m at the wall, staring at the diamond beyond. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m back here, breathing in the air. She’s empty, she’s quiet, and she’s so damn green.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Mac asks.

"May 21, 2004,” I whisper. “Versus the Blue Jays. Eleven to seven.”

“It’s been almost sixteen years?” Mac says out of disbelief.

“Since I’ve been here? Yeah,” I say, touching the seats in front of me with a delicate hand. “I’ll never forget that game. I wasn’t even eighteen. I graduated the following week and joined up right after. Never got back for a game since.”

“Well, c’mon,” Mac says. He sits on the wall, and I watch in horror as he slides down on the other side, onto the field. He holds out his hand for me.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said c’mon.”

“You want me… to walk… on the diamond,” I articulate.

Mac calmly nods. “Are you coming or not?”

It's an issued challenge. He's not asking about whether I'm going to jump the wall. It's a deeper question. It's something that he's been trying to ask me this entire time. And by God, he's been trying. He's been trying these last two days, and it's like a war of attrition. He's just beating against my walls, reminding me why I loved him in the first place.

I slap my hand into his and nearly vault the wall. I look back over my shoulder to Mac’s friend, who stands, good natured and laughing, as Mac and I run hand in hand to home plate.

I can’t stop laughing. I can’t. This is insane. I’m standing on the diamond in Fenway Park. I’m here, I’m looking into the overcast December sky, I’m breathing the same air.

Mac points behind me. There’s a glove, a baseball, and a bat waiting behind home plate.

I feel the blood rush from my face.

“Do I have to do everything?” He says, and I know he’s joking, but he rushes past me, takes off his coat, picks up the glove, and slips it on, grabbing the ball and tossing it into the air.

“Is this for real?” I ask, pointing down at the bat. “This cannot be for real.”

Mac walks backwards, and I realize he’s heading towards the pitchers’ mound.

“No.”

“Yes!” He calls.

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

“It’s like desecrating a house of God!”

“Not if you pick up that damn bat and use it!”

“Mac—”

“I’m gonna use it on you if you don’t!”

I pull off my coat, throw it over the wall, and do the unthinkable: step in front of home plate at Fenway Park.

Mac lets me take it in for a moment, as I hold the bat over my shoulder. All the greats: Ted Williams, Cy Young, Babe Ruth. Carl Yastrezemski. Johnny Pesky. The people who get to stand behind this base… I can’t. The breath catches in my throat.

I raise the bat, eyeing Mac as he tosses the ball in his hand. I have to focus. If I don’t keep my mind on the moment, I’ll hate myself forever.

“Pesky’s Pole,” I say, pointing off to the right. “302 feet from here. I’m gonna get it past that.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says, preparing his pitch.

The crack it makes as it slams into my bat is intoxicating. The ball soars into the outfield, and I drop the bat, realizing Mac is never gonna make it in time.

I sprint to first base, see that Mac is barely even trying, so I jog to second before taunting him a little.

“What, you’re gettin’ too old to run after a homer?”

In retaliation, he starts sprinting full force towards me. I let loose, almost losing my footing into third and creating a cloud of dust when I make it to home.

Mac’s friend starts to clap, laughing from the stands.

“Have fun. I’ll be back in an hour!” He calls, and I shoulder the bat once more. Mac readies himself at the mound.

“Are you gonna call the shot again?”

“Mmm, The Triangle I think.”

Mac just prepares his next pitch. I just laugh. I can’t stop laughing. It’s the best I’ve felt in a long time.

* * *

After heading back to the hotel, I’m instructed to change for dinner. I know exactly where we’re going, especially after the past two days.

It’s a war of attrition. He’s leading me into the light, whether I want to go there or not.

I have to fight through it, though. And I don’t know what’s going to happen when we come out on the other side.

The only clothes I have are for my cover, so I slip on a dress and luckily, some leggings I had thought to bring. It’s so much colder here than I expected, but my boots and the coat I had from years ago has held up against the test of time.

Still, I at least throw on a little lipstick. As we head out of the hotel and onto the cold, dark street, Mac finally clears his throat.

“You look nice.”

“It’s all I had left. If we’re here much longer, I’m going to have to go shopping.”

“What makes you think we’re going to be here much longer?”

“I don’t know, how much more do you have planned?” I ask. “We could hit a hell of a lot more spots on the Phoenix’s dime. You know, take a real vacation.”

“Matty will read us the Riot Act,” Mac says.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say. “So, do you know what you’re going to get at the Union Oyster House?”

“I should know better than to try to slip something by you,” he says as we turn the corner. I lead the way to the restaurant, but he cuts me off to open the door. “How many times have you been here?”

“This will be my third time. The first, when I turned sixteen, the second, when I enlisted,” I say, taking in the dark wood and the smell of seafood. We’re taken to a booth, and he orders a chenin blanc.

“I’m not surprised you know exactly what wine goes best with lobster,” I say, taking off my coat. He settles into the seat across from me. Of course, he’s in blue. I hate it.

But he settles into looking through the menu, while I already know what I’m getting.

“You’re so sure.”

“I don’t need to look. You get the Union Special Lobster, rice, and as much cornbread as you can eat. Or the lobster scampi. So damn good. If you’ve gotta get oysters, go for the sampler. The grilled are the best.”

“Well, that sounds good to me,” he says.

“And don’t worry about the bill. I’ve got this one.”

“Harps—”

I pull out of my pocket a leather wallet. “Snatched this from the mark the other night.”

He starts laughing, but he pushes it back down. “AJ! You shouldn’t have—”

“If we took the book and not his wallet, he would have been suspicious. I took both. They were in the same pocket. Now we’re just pickpockets.”

This time, he kind of shrugs. He doesn’t want to agree, but he knows I’m right. “Not a bad plan.”

“He had eight hundred dollars, and I’ll dump it in the nearest mailbox on our way out.”

He shakes his head. “You’re the worst.”

“You lo—”

I cut myself off. We both know what I was going to say, and his smile fades. We’re luckily cut off by the waitress getting our order: grilled oysters, Union Special Lobster, lobster scampi, and bring the bottle of wine.

We settle in for a long night.

* * *

“How’d you like Fenway?”

“I don’t know how you did that. I don’t know why you even thought of it. It was ridiculous. It was amazing, Mac. I never thought I would get that chance.”

“Maybe we can make it a yearly thing.”

I get into the lobster scampi. We set both in the middle of the table and had been eating off of both, and I feel like I’m going to explode, but the wine is settling in my chest and it feels nice.

“I don’t know how. It was the best gift you could ever give me.”

He stops for a moment. We share a brief look.

“The past two days… they’ve felt almost normal.”

“Our normal, or normal, normal?” He says.

“Somewhere in between.”

He takes a long look at me. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I can’t read his mind anymore. “Do you think we’ll ever get back to normal?”

“Our normal, or—”

“Us, AJ. Some form of us. Not you, not me, us. Together.”

“Mac, I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if… you left. You left and started over. With someone else.”

He looks off into the distance, off into the wood, for a long time before he speaks again. “I… I ended it with Nasha a long time before I ever told her. I was emotionally out of that relationship the moment I…”

He drifts, but I need to know the answer. “Please. You owe it to me to tell me.”

He takes another drink of wine. This time, he drains his glass.

“The moment I came home, the moment I saw you, I knew I could never go back to her.”

I finish off my own drink. It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

I start pacing as soon as we make it back to the hotel room. It’s been building all this time, and I have to talk about it. For the first time in months, I actually want to talk about it. He slips his hands in his pockets and he just… he waits. He knows what’s coming, I think. He knows I’m about to explode and he’s just going to let it. He’s not going to try to fix it. He’s going to just let me blow up.

But I can’t. I can’t do it. It’s like I just… deflate.

“I don’t have the energy to hate you anymore,” I say flatly. “I’m still… God, it’s still hard. It’s awful. But I just… after the last two days, you’ve just tried so damn hard. I just can’t bring myself to keep hating you.”

The tension in his face falls, melts away, for the first time in a long time.

“I’m terrified, Mac. I’m terrified that if you’ve done this once, you are capable of doing it again, and I don’t want to live in fear that you’re going to disappear again. I can’t do that. We’ve already lived through that enough, and I don’t need you making the decision to leave when there’s a possibility either of us could disappear without telling the other.”

“How can I prove to you I won’t do it again?” He says. He looks just as sheepish as he did when he came to my house last month.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s anything you can really do to alleviate that terror. I’m constantly holding my breath when you leave the room, and I hate myself for it.”

“Why?”

“Because even when you can do all this bullshit to me, you can put me through Hell, I still love you. God, Mac, I forgave you a long time ago. I forgave you when you came back and you first apologized at Jill’s funeral. But I just couldn’t let myself because I knew I deserved better. I deserved better than this.”

“You do. You still do. AJ, I know it’s gonna be hard, but trust me when I say I’ve learned my lesson. I… my first instinct is always to run. And you were right, I am my father’s son. That’s what I know. I don’t know how to handle it when someone wants to fight for me instead of run away. But that’s what you’ve always done, whether you realize it or not.”

“You know me, I’m always up for a fight,” I say, sinking down onto the couch.

“Oh, yeah. I know better than anyone,” he grumbles.

We fall into a strange silence, something a bit better than our normal silence, but still there. He gets up to start a fire in the fireplace while I let a dozen sentences bounce around in my brain.

“You never intended on getting with her,” I state, and he looks back at me, waiting for the rest of it. “I realize now you tried to break it off with me. Maybe I just didn’t understand it. Maybe I was too bullheaded to understand it. But I’m sorry, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. We’ve been through way too much for that to happen.”

As soon as we have a roaring fire, he moves the ottoman over and sits in front of me, leaning his elbows on his knees. He’s so close now, I want to grasp his hands, I want to touch his face, I want to do all of it, but I’m not sure I’m ready. 

“Running from this… it was cowardly. It was unfair. I see that now, and I don’t know how to tell you that I’m sorry and it will never happen again. The best thing I can give you right now is my word. But you know I’m not gonna mess it up this time.”

“I think… I think I can do that,” I whisper. I keep having to remind myself: he wouldn’t be doing all of this if he didn’t truly want me back in his life. This is a hell of a lot to do for someone that meant nothing to him.

“We have spent way too much time being mad at each other,” he says. It sounds like his endgame. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

I just find myself looking at him once more. He’s quiet. He’s silent. He’s said everything he needed to say. And when he looks to me, waiting for me to say something, I realize I don’t have anything left to say, either, other than I forgive him.

“I’m sorry, AJ. I… I love you. I don’t want to do this without you.”

He knows I’ve forgiven him. I’ve already said it. I’ve already said everything I need to say.

I grab his shirt collar and pull his lips into mine. It’s a carnal impulse, one I don’t want to regret, but I don’t think I’m going to as he kisses me back, his hands slipping into my hair. In a fluid motion, he moves from his seat on the ottoman to next to me on the sofa. His hands slip down my shoulders, down to my waist, until I break away, still grasping onto his shirt.

He looks at me like he did last month at my house: with that questioning fear, that moment of hesitant hope that gives us both an out if we need it.

Without breaking his gaze, I slip onto his lap.

“I was going to ask you a question, but I think I just got your answer,” he says, his voice low and husky, like if he speaks any louder, he’ll break the moment. The flames from the fireplace flicker in his eyes.

“Listen. Before we go any further. You… you stuck with your promise on taking me back to Boston,” I whisper. “This was a promise you made a long time ago. And I’m thankful for it.”

“How about we add another memory to Boston?” He whispers in my ear. I can’t help but let out a moan-sigh as his hands slip under my dress and he moves his mouth to my neck. Beyond the gauzy curtains behind us, I can see the lights of Beacon Street and Boston Common. I didn’t need to drink tonight to feel intoxicated by his hands and the light.

He holds me against his body for a while, and it’s definitely more than just pleasant—until his hands start slipping up, higher and higher.

He pulls off my dress. I don’t see where it lands, and something tells me I’m not going to need it any time soon.

I slip off his lap, pulling him by his hand into the center of the room, but that’s as far as we get before I start unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps stepping backwards, letting me follow.

“You’re gonna trip over that chair,” I say, pulling him back into me by looping my fingertips in his waistband. He barely turns to see where the chair is, then pushes it out of the way with a slight kick. It shudders at his jarring touch, but he’s lost his focus for a moment and I’ve got his belt and pants undone.

“Goin’ a little fast there, aren’t you, Harps—”

“It’s been seven months—”

“Don’t you mean six?”  
“That didn’t count.”

“Oh, I thought it counted,” he says, pushing me back against the wall where the chair had been placed. With it out of the way, he has a perfect place to pin me against the off-white wallpaper. He grasps my hips and bodily pulls me to hook my legs around his waist. The feeling of his rough hands on my skin is enough to make me draw a heavy breath.

“I was still mad at you, so it didn’t count,” I counter, leaning into his touch against the bare skin of my waist. He kisses my collarbone, using the leverage against the wall to press his body against mine.

“So this counts?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at me. I know what the question really means: you’re not mad anymore.

“Oh, you better make this count.”

“When you put it like that…” I muse, his hands slipping to my bra. He’s unhooking it and dropping me to my feet before I can even finish my sentence. Instead, I let him pull my bra off. With deft fingers, he pushes down my leggings and underwear. He takes me in, bullet holes and taser wounds and knife scars in all.

“Take off your pants,” I finally order, moving backward to the bed. I push the covers down, and they fall at the edge of the bed, leaving him a bit of roadblock as he finally disrobes and climbs up onto the bed with me.

“Hey, this is a nice bed,” he comments, crawling on top of me and kissing my neck again. “I can’t wait to sleep in it.”

“Who says we’re going to sleep?”

He laughs, and I lean up to meet his mouth. At first, I just want to kiss him, content to be naked under him. But he knows my body like a road map: it takes him no time at all to find his way. Like we were leaving off, he trails his mouth down, down between my legs, linking his arms around my thighs to pin me into position. 

I know I should tell him to stop. I know I should still be mad at him, be unforgiving, be a wall against him, but I can’t. Not anymore. I melt in his hands. I sink into his hands like I’m meant to be there.

I try desperately to keep my gasps quiet, but we’re fighting against each other and I’m losing. When he slips his fingers inside me, without warning, I arch against him. It only makes him work harder, as he holds down my stomach to the sheets. I grasp the sheets, until I grasp his hair, keeping him in place.

I stop trying to hide it. I stop trying to hold back, because each pant, each gasp, makes him try harder. I know he has something to prove. For this moment, I don’t care. My body quakes as I come, shaking beneath his unyielding hands.

But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even make any attempt to slow down, and I’m barely able to catch my breath before the buildup starts again. I’m already shaking, under his mouth, as he doesn’t stop.

“Jesus, Mac, I don’t know if I can—if I—” I can’t finish my own sentence as I gasp back another moan.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asks. “You don’t think you can do something? God forbid.”

He just brings his mouth back to me, pinning me down. I don’t even have time to breathe as I cry out again, much quicker than the last.

He gives me a brief reprieve to grab a condom before grabbing my hips and pulling me down to the edge of the bed. When he enters me, he starts slowly. I don’t know if it’s for his benefit or mine.

I still need a moment to regroup, but he doesn’t give me long: he uses the leverage he gets from standing up to start a fast, deep pace. I reach for some sort of hand hold that I can’t seem to find. He’s already making me shake again.

Using one hand to brush his hair out of his face and the other to pin me down to the bed, I don’t even have the leverage to fight back. Even in the dark, in the barely illuminated room, I can see the outline of his body. I can’t tell where his ends and mine begins.

But I should have expected additional retaliation. He pulls my legs up around him, and I hook my ankles together. I’m already descending once again into moans that don’t sound like me. They shouldn’t be me, but I can’t help it; he wins once more as he moves his hand from my hip down to my center.

I try to hold onto him, but I collapse back down onto the bed. It’s become a carnal need. He’s done it twice already, and I want him to make me come again. My challenge somewhere in the air between us, I can only hear myself muttering, gasping, moaning under my breath: “don’t stop, don’t stop”.

He isn’t going to stop. I think the phrase sits somewhere deeper in my soul, but it’s too deep for me to even consider right now. This time, when I come, I’m almost hoarse. But he hasn’t yet, and he pushes me further to the center of the bed, getting on his knees. He easily shifts one of my legs over his shoulder, and it changes his angle inside me. He alters his speed, and it’s everything I can do to make sure I’m stable under him. His hands are on my body, holding my hands against the mattress. He’s looking into my eyes, and we’re intimate again as he fucks me.

He kisses me, holding my face in his hands, not slowing his pace. Each time he thrusts, I have to gasp, and I stack my breaths, not wanting him to stop.

“What’s our record?” He asks, his voice rough, deep.

“Five,” I try. I’m already shaking.

“We’re up to three,” he adds, almost conversationally, like this was barely anything to him. “I think we’re almost to four, aren’t we?”

He kisses my waiting mouth again as I arch into him. He slips his hand behind my shoulders, bracing me, keeping me close to him, as my body quakes. I hear him murmuring under his breath, whispering in my ear to let go, let go, to let go.

I do as he says. He cuts off my cries with his mouth on mine.

He continues thrusting against me, kissing me anywhere he can. I let him. I let him, because I don’t want him to stop. It’s like he’s making up for lost time.

“I hope you don’t… I hope you don’t have exciting plans for tomorrow,” I manage, as he slows down just enough for me to catch my breath. I’m already shaking again as he draws from me, and I watch him slip his mouth down my chest again. He slips his fingers inside me, moving slower this time, almost cradling me as I gasp.

“Why, you don’t think you’re gonna be able to move tomorrow?”

“Or the next week. Matty’ll put me on medical leave.”

“Considering what she did to make this happen, I think she would.”

With that comment, I clasp my eyes shut as he flicks his tongue over me again. He has to clasp his hands over my hips to even keep me down. I’m writhing beneath him, tender and tingling, each time still riding from the last.

It’s everything I can do to keep my hands busy: the sheets, my hair. They rest above me, weak and tired already from his work.

“I can’t,” I hoarsely say, already sweating. I can’t do this again. I can’t tell him no, either. Because I don’t want him to stop.

“You can’t, or you won’t?” He says, but I push his head back down between my legs. He laughs, running his tongue over me. His free hand slides up to my chest, and he takes me in his hand, kneading me.

“I just—I need to breathe, okay? I need—I need to breathe—”

He doesn’t relent. This one is the most powerful of all: I feel the tears stream down my face as the pressure builds, the feeling mounts, and he takes me over the edge. When he draws out of me, I can’t move yet. I’m not sure I want to. He finally gives me a brief reprieve, sitting against the bed frame, still panting. He pushes back his sweaty hair, smiling at me like he knows he’s done something bad but I’m not going to complain.

“Tired yet, Harps?”

I can’t be outdone, not from the likes of him. I get to my knees, still wavering, and straddle him once more. He helps me wrap my legs around him, and I gently rock against him, taking control for the first time of the night. I try to brace myself on the wall, but he takes my hands, placing them on his shoulders. I lean down to kiss him again. It almost surprises him.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” I say.

He changes tactics completely. “I deserve none of the chances you’ve given me.”

“You know,” I whisper, leaning against his hands on the small of my back. “If we go back far enough in our shared history, neither of us do.”

“Can we agree to stop keeping score?”

“How about only in the important things,” I answer, “Like tonight.”

He brushes my hair back from my face. “I’m glad Matty sent us to Boston.”

“You always told me you would bring me back home,” I whisper, leaning my forehead on his. He pulls my lips back to his, and I try to draw enough breath as I feel it building once more. I don’t know how I’m going to handle this, I don’t know how my body even wants to go again, but he can’t answer. He finally lets go, and I let go, and we let go together. I’m shaking in his arms, out of breath, a sweaty mess, but we’re together. I really am home.


	15. Ioke: Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a conclusion finally reached, Mac and AJ head back to California. But when Jack and Mac go dark while heading to Las Vegas, AJ can’t help but pursue them with a rescue mission.

_Boston, MA_

**Mid December**

I don’t remember what causes me to wake violently. Sometimes, I can’t. it’s just a fact of life. But whatever nightmare causes me to thrash, eventually Mac braces me and I can start to catch my lucidity.

Mac kisses me on the forehead as I try to figure out exactly who I am again. Already a headache starts to mount, and in the haze of the early morning I hear the sound of the shower running. I almost fall back asleep, but I’m terrified about the possibility of slipping back into the nightmare.

Instead, though, Mac kisses me, trying to wake me back up.

“What time is it? We should probably get a hold of Matty,” I murmur, trying to extricate myself from the sheets. When I finally open my eyes wide, I see his wet hair from the shower. I pull him back to my lips, and he looks… surprised.

“You wanna contact Matty?”

“Maybe in a little while,” I say, stretching and finally rolling out of bed. I start towards the shower, even though I’m still trying to pull myself from sleep.

By the time I finish up, find myself a towel, and wander back into the suite, Mac has ordered breakfast.

I dry out my hair, eyeing the tray he has sitting next to the bed. He looks a little more pleased with himself, even more so than last night. I find a pair of underwear from my bag and slip them on, and then I pick up his shirt from yesterday from the floor. He makes a sad noise before I make my way back into bed with him.

“Breakfast in bed is a nice touch,” I say, kissing him. He offers me a cup of coffee, then pulls a tray from the cart and sets it in the middle of the bed. There’s toast, and eggs, sausage, bacon, potatoes, a fruit plate… anything we could want. I lean back into the pillows.

"You realize Matty is going to have to pay for all of this, right?”

He gives me a slice of a clementine, so I turn over on my stomach to properly eat. “Why do you think I ordered all this food?”

I snatch a piece of bacon in retaliation and turn back over so I’m staring at him and the ceiling. “We should do this more often.”

“What, sex in fancy hotels, or breakfast in bed?”

“Both,” I say. He leans down over me and gives me another kiss. This time, I don’t want him to leave.

“Are we really okay?” He asks, so I sit up, letting the blood rush out of my head. I wiggle my fingers for my coffee, letting the thought simmer in my brain.

“I can’t penalize you for something you already regret. It still hurts. It’s going to hurt for a while. And you’re right. We’ve wasted enough time. So I want you to make me a promise.”

“Anything.”

“We can’t do this again. Not to each other. So both of us—me included—we have to make a promise to each other. We’re both in this together. We talk. We share our feelings. And we stick through this.”

“I promise you,” he says, without hesitation, without issue.

“I promise you,” I confirm. “But yeah, we’re okay.”

He gently takes my mug and sets it back on the cart before pulling my face to his with two hands. He kisses me hard, he forces my mouth open with his, and I gasp for breath before he finally lets me go.

“I missed you,” I finally admit. It’s the first time I’ve voiced it. It’s the first time it’s slipped from my lips. It’s been seven months. It’s been long enough.

Our daydream is cut short by the sound of my phone ringing.

“Did you text her?” Mac asks, hovering over the accept button.

“Last night,” I say.

Mac answers the video call as I struggle to button up his shirt fast enough. But he’s grinning, and that’s what matters.

“_This is a new look for you two_,” Matty says. “_Definitely not what I expected, but I can live with this. What’s the verdict?”_

Mac, though, looks to me. I’m two sausages deep, using my hands. He starts laughing as I stop mid-chew to look to Matty.

“_Are you wearing his shirt?_”

I look down at the bright blue button down. “Maybe,” I mutter through the half-chewed meat. “What’s it to you?”

“_Maybe this Boston gambit worked a little too well. I’m assuming you’ve made up?”_

“You are correct,” I finally say. Mac’s face blossoms into a smile, whether he realizes it or not, as he looks at me. Matty sighs, her own face breaking into just a slight smirk.

"_Exfil’s in three hours. Hanscom Field. You’re both insufferable, together or not. Be there, or I’m disavowing you.”_

She hangs up, so I pick up the tray and slip it back on the cart. Mac starts to complain, but I unbutton his shirt and toss it to the floor.

“AJ, we should finish eating and check out,” he tries.

“We have three hours. Weren’t you just saying we should do this more often?”

* * *

Mac drives our rental car out of downtown Boston much earlier than I anticipated. We still had about an hour and a half before exfil, but he insisted we start towards the airfield. It’s still freezing cold, but as we drive, silently, out of my hometown, I feel the warmth settle in my chest. A lot happened here. A lot happened in the past, but this time, ten years since I’ve been back, feels a bit different.

He makes a right turn and I know this isn’t the right way to Hanscom. At first, I’m unsure, but I start to remember my surroundings.

“Mac, where are we going,” I say, more of a statement than a question.

“Something you should have done a long time ago.”

He finds a parking spot off the side of the street, and all the heat I had felt before disappears in a flurry of panic. I almost don’t want to get out of the car, but he walks forward down the sidewalk, hand brushing the snow from the wrought iron fence.

I can’t let him go by himself.

I follow after him, towards the break in the fence, and head in, boots crunching on dry snow. Brushing past him, I head towards the center, avoiding the rows of gravestones as I go. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this quickly.

I close my eyes and exhale. When I turn around, I see the pair of headstones. They’re full of snow. I brush them off so I can read them again.

Sophie Harper, January 3, 1961 – May 30, 2001. Jason Harper, April 29, 1956 – March 12, 2009.

I push the terror down, I tamp it down into my stomach, but when I finally come back to my senses, I realize I’m on my knees in front of them.

Almost ten years for dad. Almost twenty for mom.

I feel Mac’s hand on my shoulder, and it’s actually welcome. I didn’t know it could be anymore. Months ago, I never thought we would be like that again. Now, I don’t know what we are.

“Mom, Dad,” I say, my voice already quavering. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’ve been… well, a little busy. But that… that’s no excuse. I’m sorry for not coming. Mom, I’m assuming Dad filled you in. I joined the Army. I think you knew that was coming before you died. I was one of the first women in Delta. Imagine that, right? Me with the boys. That wasn’t a surprise.” I wipe the tears from my face. They’re warm against my skin. “Uh, met one of my best friends there. Name’s Jack, but I call him Walker. Yes, he’s from Texas. No, he doesn’t watch baseball, so you’re fine. After… after I left the Army, I started working for this place called Phoenix.” I lower my voice. “It’s not a think tank. Well, kind of. It’s more of a government contractor.” For a second, I feel like I hear dad’s voice: _You’re a spy._

“Yeah, dad, I’m a spy. More or less. I should, uh, I should introduce my—my—”

“I’m Angus,” Mac says to the rocks, leaning down with me. “Angus MacGyver.”

I chuckle. I could hear him again. _What kind of name is Angus?_

And then you’d have mom: _Shut up, Jay. He looks like a nice boy._

_Much better than some of the other ones she’s brought home. The girls were always better._

“I can hear them in my head,” I say. “Mom would be chiding Dad for making fun of your name, dad would undercut me about the guys I would bring home. Mom would ask you what you do, how we met. She was always that way. Nosy, but in a nice way. She’d get you to talk about yourself, so she didn’t have to carry the conversation.”

He smiles, looking down into the snow. “Well, Mrs. Harper, Mr. Harper—”

“They would hate that,” I interrupt. “Try again.”

“Sophie, Jason.”

“Better,” I say. “I met Mac… Dad, I met Mac after your funeral. I buried you that morning, and I, uh, had a job interview that afternoon. Afterwards, I walked through MIT. You know, the People’s Republic? I went and got a coffee and… I met Mac. It was the first time I had gone there without you. After how many trips to that coffee shop inside MIT, and you weren’t there… I met Mac. I met my best friend. I met…” My voice finally cracks. “You know, Dad, you were an asshole. You didn’t do a lot of good when you were alive, you were always in and out of work, you smoked constantly, and you killed Mom. But had you not died when you did, had I not had to come home and bury you, I would have never joined Phoenix and I would have never met Mac, and I’ll never be able to thank you for that.”

He rests his hand on my shoulder, and I lean into him.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers.

“It’s not yours, either,” I say, getting to my feet. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

_[Classified] _

**Late December**

It’s an interesting week and a half. Although Matty knows, she knows how to keep a secret, and we haven’t said anything to our friends. In fact, I’m not even sure what we can tell them. I don’t know what we are to each other again, but I’m willing to find out.

And with the week and a half came the interesting proposition of Mac and Jack going to Las Vegas. I don’t know how Mac is going to keep his mouth shut, because he’s a horrible liar, but I also know Jack probably has no idea, so the question may never come up.

That was yesterday. He hasn’t texted me since then.

He had talked about going through Barstow, because he made a damn _Gattaca _reference. While I really liked the soundtrack, the movie was okay. He seemed offended, but only playfully.

And that was the entire text. That’s the last I heard from him.

I storm into Matty’s office, and she’s on the phone. She just glares at me at first, finishes up the call, and turns to me.

“And what the hell are you doing storming in here—”

“Something’s wrong with Mac and Jack.”

“Well, yeah, there’s something wrong with them, but I don’t think it bears breaking down my door—”

“Matty, Mac’s not answering his phone. Something is wrong, and if you’re not going to do something about it, I will.”

Matty just sighs. “Harps, just—hang on. When was the last time you heard from him?”

“Yesterday afternoon, but I figured they needed some time alone, so I didn’t think anything of it. About 18 hours?”

“Give him some time, I’m sure he’ll come up for air at some point. Give the guy a little breathing room. You only just made up.”

I know she’s probably right, but it doesn’t scare me any less. I head home that night and can’t sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Matty calls me into the war room. When I get there, she’s got a map of SoCal and Nevada on the wall.

“So you believe me now?”

“I know I gave them radio silence, but I agree. Something is definitely wrong.”

“Can I go after them now?” I say.

“I can’t sanction an op—”

“—but you can let me take a day?” I finish, and she tosses me some keys and an earpiece.

“Jack left his goat here,” she starts, but I’m halfway to the underground parking lot before she can say, “Keep me posted, Harps!”

* * *

I-15 has a speed limit of 70. I’m pushing 100 in the GTO as I scan the desolate landscape for any sign of life. I call Riley, and she sounds just as exasperated.

_"The most I can tell you is their phones stopped pinging from towers around Midway, California. But AJ, that’s a massive location—you’re deep into the Mojave. How do you think you’re—”_

“I’m gonna find them, Riles, and never tell me the odds.”

_"Thanks, Han, but you’re gonna have to do better than that.”_

I speed up. This goat clocks out at 120, and I’m gonna push it to its limits.

“What’s in the area?”

"_They’ve been off the grid for almost two days, AJ. They could be anywhere.”_

“I don’t think they are,” I say. “You know this area. There’s gotta be plenty of places to hide.”

_“It’s the Mojave Desert, AJ! What the hell do you think you’re gonna find?!”_

I slam on the breaks. Shattered pieces of an SUV pepper the road ahead. Why it hasn’t been noticed, I don’t know, but I’m sure the people driving through here wouldn’t think to stop for an unattended, battered vehicle.

“I’ve got something.”

_“You found them?!”_

I slam the car into park and investigate the scene. “Riles, this car got nailed. Side swiped. Passenger’s side.” Mac’s side. I don’t say that out loud. Instead, I shove my hand through the broken glass window and unlock it. Inside are their bags. I know it’s Mac’s, because he’s carrying that leather bag I gave him last Christmas. I grab anything that’s theirs left in the rental, including their phones. “Confirmed. It’s theirs.”

I look around the car. There’s a pair of tire tracks leading out into the desert.

_"There’s a rest stop about a third of a mile down the road._”

“I see it,” I say, quickly getting back into the GTO, but I’m anything but comfortable with this. Once I get down there, I park the car, gather up some of the necessities in Mac’s old Mission City Star bag I had stolen, including my portable phone charger and some Gatorade bottles.

_“You can’t be considering going out there.”_

“Oh, there’s no considering about this,” I explain, locking up the car. I place my Sox hat on my head where it’s meant to be.

_“AJ, that’s insane.”_

“We need to do a ground search, and I’m following those tracks.”

_“Tracks? What tracks? You should wait for a chopper and a team or something.”_

“Alright, listen up,” I start, heading back to where the SUV was totaled. “2015, I was part of the first Desert Warrior Course. I think I can handle this. Can you move to comms?”

_“Sure thing. Over and out,”_ Riley says, but I know she’s not too happy about it. When she comes back on my comms, she sighs, and I can hear typing.

I mill about the SUV. There’s nothing else I really can see, other than the deep grooves of tire tracks down something called the Cady Wash.

“You’re tracing me, right?”

_“Oh, hell yeah,” _Riles says. _“I’m not losing you on this op, too.”_

With a touch of feedback, I hear Bozer on the line. “_You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on? Riley just keeps typin’ and I can’t keep up.”_

“Jack and Mac never made it to Vegas,” I explain, following the tire tracks. “Matty let me go chase them down, and now I’m in the middle of the Mojave Desert.”

“_Excuse me, what?!”_

“It’s actually kinda nice out here,” I say. “It’s only about sixty degrees. Bright as hell, though. Riles, what’s out north of my last?”

_“Uh, desert?_” B tries, but I hear a thud and then an ‘ow’.

_“The only place of note is Fort Irwin. It’s a training facility about twenty miles north, northwest from you.”_

“That’s too far, but we’re in the right direction,” I muse, peering out over the horizon. “You’ve got any eyes on a location northwest of here, not quite to the hills? Maybe…. maybe in line with the power lines? Any sort of building or structure?”

I shade my eyes. About three miles out, there’s an outcropping of little plateaus that lead to a bigger range of hills, and I’m assuming over that is this Fort Irwin. The tracks lead in that direction.

_“I’ve got something,” _Riley says. “_Fort Irwin created some underground bunkers in that area for training purposes.”_

“How close?”

“_About three miles? This side of the hills.”_

I pull the strap taut on the messenger bag, pull my gun from my holster. “Can you scan them for heat signatures?”

_“It’s gonna take me some time—”_

“I’ll be there in about… 20 minutes, if I can still keep up.”

_“That’ll do it.”_

“Get me a target.”

* * *

I skid to a stop behind one of the outcroppings where Riles had indicated that there had been heat signatures in the past days. I take a moment to catch my breath, but I need to scan the area. Whoever took them—because that’s my only explanation at this point—might still be in the area.

“Riles, I’ve got a lone van. Front end damage, but it should be driveable. Looks like what hit the SUV.”

_"Any sign of Mac and Jack?”_

I whisper. “I’ve got to clear the area. I’m out in the open, so give me a second.”

I try to do a perimeter sweep, but I don’t think anything is out here. I inch around the side of the rocks. It looks like there’s a hole in the ground with a ladder leading out—

My heart jumps. Three bodies. Not moving, two slumped against the rocks and the other, on the ground.

“I’ve got them—”

“_You found them? Are they alive?”_

I first check the restraints of the first guy, lying prone, eyes closed to the sky. He’s still breathing, but only just. They at least had enough time to tie his hands together, but whatever happened, happened quickly.

”They’re alive.”

Jack has a splotch of blood on his chest. I immediately panic, but when I unbutton his shirt, looking for a hole, there isn’t one. What the hell happened here?

“Walk! Walker, dammit, wake up!”

I look over him, but I can’t find any glaring, life threatening wounds. He starts, jarring awake.

“Hey! Hey, it’s me,” I say, reaching to his face to look at the cuts. He just looks exhausted. Probably hungry and dehydrated. “What the hell happened to you?!”

“Our Las Vegas trip never popped off, if you know what I’m sayin’,” he grumbles, leaning up from his position. “What happened—”

“You got out of whatever hole this guy had you locked in, and then promptly passed out. Here,” I say, pulling a Gatorade from my bag. “Do not chug it, okay?”

“You got it, Thea,” he murmurs, glancing next to him to Mac. I step over Jack and kneel in front of Mac. He looks fine, other than some bruises and aches he’s going to have after this. Both of them are barefoot, I realize.

“What did he do to you—”

Jack shakes his head, not looking at me quite yet. He just nurses his Gatorade.

Instead of asking again, I brush his sweaty, messy hair from his face. “Mac, wake up. Mac?”

He opens his eyes wide, starting awake much like Jack. When he sees it’s me, he exhales heavily, breaking into a tired smile. I see Jack eye the two of us, but he’s half delirious, so I don’t know if it sinks in.

“How did you find us?”

I smirk. “After telling Matty it was weird you hadn’t texted me in so long, she finally gave me clearance to go after you. I stole the goat—” Jack looks concerned at first. “—I wasn’t gonna drive her across the desert, Walk, she’s parked at a rest stop not far from here—and I had Riley track your phones. Took me here. Followed the van tracks and Riles looked for heat signatures and here we are. Both of you okay? No life-threatening injuries?”

“Been better, but we’ve been a helluva lot worse, you know what I’m sayin’?” Jack says, reaching into my bag and handing Mac one of the Gatorades I had brought. I toss them both a water, too, as I go to check the kidnapper.

“How long ago did you make it out?” I ask, seeing the pool of blood starting to form on the guy’s chest. “Is he even gonna make it?”

Mac looks up to the sun, while Jack feels his chin, and both say in unison “not long”.

I stand up to full height, making sure they heard it through my comms. “I’m not gonna wait for a transport,” I say to Riley. “This van is good enough; I’ll bring it back to the rest stop and we can meet an exfil team there.”

“_We can have a chopper there in half an hour—”_

I feel something grab at my ankle, pulling my weight out from under me. I nearly trip and face plant into the dust, but I somersault away and draw my Colt.

He’s got my backup gun. With shaking hand, he turns and aims towards Mac and Jack.

Before either of them can say another word, I shoot. At this range, it goes right through his eye and makes him drop before he can press the trigger. The gunshot echoes through the desert.

_"AJ? Was that a gunshot—” _Bozer starts.

“Yes, it was,” I sigh, looking down at his body. “We’re fine. The kidnapper took my gun. We’re gonna need a clean-up crew. I’m not taking his body with us. I’ll loop back with you once we’re headed back.” I turn off my comms. I don’t want them in my ear right now.

“Jesus, AJ,” Jack starts to laugh. “Sometimes you scare me.”

“Incorrect. That answer should be: all the time,” I say, grabbing my gun back from the dead man in the dust. Mac just stares at him. Unfortunately for Mac, he had to watch me kill someone else. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t bother me anymore.

“I remember him. CIA. Griggs? The hell happened with him?”

“A revenge plot,” Jack says, struggling to stand up. “You’re familiar with that, aren’t you?”

I rush to help him, but I glare at him as I do. “Not fair.”

“Pot, kettle,” he mutters. I help him towards the only slightly decimated van and go back for Mac.

“Hey, are you okay?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Jack wasn’t lingering.

Instead of answering, though, Mac just pulls me into him, kissing me until I can’t breathe.

“The hell was that for?” I whisper once he breaks the kiss. He looks half delirious, totally exhausted, as he chuckles into the sky.

“You’re just so exceptionally good at finding me.”

“Oh, you’re gonna say some shit on this ride back, and I’m gonna pray Jack is just as delirious as you are,” I mutter, pulling him to his feet. “Did he hurt you?”

“Only if you count being hit by a car, chained up, electrocuted, and tear gassed,” Mac says. I try to steady him, but he just cringes.

“You might have broken ribs.”

“I haven’t really had time to feel it until now.”

“Fair enough,” I say, helping him into the van. Without seats in the back, they both lean up against the walls, and I’m scared they’re both just going to collapse before we get back. Dumbass left the keys in the ignition, so I pray that it’ll start up with all the front-end damage. Thankfully, it does.

“I’m sorry you didn’t make it to Las Vegas,” I say, getting the fuck out of dodge. The more I make them talk, the longer they stay awake. “Did you find more water in my bag? You should keep hydrating.”

There’s a brief rustling.

“How come you two always find trouble when you least expect it?”

Jack just grumbles. “I don’t know, Thea. It just… sideswipes us. Get it?”

“You’re the worst.”

And he knows it. He just grins at me through the rear view. “I love you too. Also, what’s the deal with you two? I thought this was a moot point.”

Mac speaks up, and I roll my eyes. He can’t fuck this up for us. We’re still working on it. “Matty sent us to Boston.”

“Yeah, I know that—oh. Oh. _Oh_.”

“Uh, you wanna share with the rest of the class?” I ask, following the tracks through the desert.

“He made a suggestive look with his face muscles,” Jack explains. “Does that mean y’all are back? Dream team?”

I don’t even respond. Mac, on the other hand, does.

“I took her to Fenway.”

“It ain’t baseball season, dude.”

“I’ve got an in. We actually played. She loved it. Hey, AJ?”

“Yes, Mac.”

“We’re gonna go to Fenway on our honeymoon.”

Dear God, I hope they suffer memory loss. And I hope I never do. I can’t help but snort as I try to respond. “Nah. We should go somewhere fresh. Maybe somewhere the U.S. has no extradition treaties with.”

“How about… Djibouti?”

“The hell happened in Boston?” Jack mutters. “Y’all are makin’ wedding plans now—”

“We made up, Jack!” Mac exclaims. “We made up.”

“I’m sorry, what? It finally happened, and you’re _just_ telling me?”

“We were a little busy getting kidnapped,” Mac says. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. AJ was right. I run away from my problems and I… I can’t do that anymore.”

“Aww, you’re good, Mac. I know.”

Lord, it’s so much easier for those two. When it goes silent for a second, I look in the rear view. They had both finally passed out.

Probably for the best. Still, after everything, I find myself smiling.


	16. Kratos: Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough had happened to bring AJ to her knees, physically and emotionally, but for the first time in a while, she was finding the strength to bounce back— whether it be the holidays or being Matty’s wingwoman. But stronger or not, things have to hit a peak before descending once more.

_Pete’s Salvage, Burbank, CA_

**Late December**

I get off my Bonnie and let Mac recover, if only briefly, from the fast trip. He pulls off his helmet and eyes the messy scrapyard with a cautious eye.

“I know we said we were doing Christmas presents later, but I finally got a call from Pete, and he said he had some stuff for me,” I say, hanging my helmet on my handlebar. I’m not even sure Mac is listening. I think his eyes are glazing over a little, so I just let him stare into the fun zone for a while.

“Petey! Pete, where are you?”

A man shorter than me finally pops out from underneath what looks like a half destroyed 1957 Chevy Bel Air and gives me a solid—but over dramatic—salute.

“Sergeant,” he says with a grunt, finally regaining his footing. “You’ll never believe what came in.” With that, he scuttles behind a pile of parts and I glance back at Mac.

Now, he’s peering at me. He’s confused. I like it that way.

“I figured you might not always enjoy riding around with me on the back of my Bonnie,” I say, watching for Petey to come back. “So, I had a thought, but I also know you. So. I called my parts guy—”

“Parts guy, gun guy. Do you have a guy for everything?”

“I try to,” I counter, watching Petey struggle with the handlebars. I start pushing. She’s in just about as good of shape as I anticipated, but God, she’s beautiful. Mac’s face goes from smug to surprised.

“She needs a lot of work,” grunts Petey, “but she’ll turn out real good.”

I look over the find. A 1982 Triumph T65 Thunderbird. God, she’s beautiful, even in her current state. Mac looks over the body of the bike, still rusty where she should have been chrome.

“You’re going to have to fix her up. You’ve got free range of the junkyard, Petey’s got some parts for you set aside. I’ll help where I can. It may take a couple of trips, but—”

Mac pulls me into a kiss. It’s so commonplace, it’s so fluid, it’s so familiar, it feels almost habitual. When he leans back down to look over the bike, it’s like we’ve been doing that for much longer. Instead, though, he takes off his leather jacket and starts rolling up his sleeves. I reach out to Petey, and he hands me ten bucks.

“Told you he would start wrenching immediately.”

“I should have known,” Petey grumbles. “He’s your boyfriend.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

* * *

_Hollywood Hills, CA_

**Late December**

“Mac? Mac, am I too early?”

I step inside the house tentatively, peering around the hallway. No one else is here. No other cars are here, either, and I’m a little hesitant to just appear, even though we’ve made up. I set the bottle of wine I had brought on the counter and head outside to where the fire pit was burning brightly.

I see two figures out here instead of one, both leaning against the porch railing, cutting a similar figure. Mac leans back and gives me a smile, although it seems almost a little forced.

“Hey, AJ.”

“I’m definitely early, aren’t I?”

“You’re right on time,” he says. “I know you’ve met him before, but I figured…”

“Most of those were in times I wasn’t exactly myself?” I finish, glancing from Mac to James and back again. James breaks into a smile. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it in a genuine state. I realize quickly I’m smiling too.

“I’m gonna make sure Bozer has everything he needs in the kitchen for the brisket,” Mac says, although it’s very stuttered and timed. As soon as he bails and leaves James and I together, I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Does he know we talk now?”

“The boy is one of the smartest people I know, but he cannot read social cues.”

“It’s one or the other, usually,” I say, leaning against the railing as well. “But we’ve both learned to deal with it, haven’t we?”

James simply smiles into the darkness. We both look over the Los Angeles skyline for a while. We don’t have to talk. We’re alike in that way. Sometimes, I think James and I are more alike than father and son.

“AJ, I have something for you,” Mac says, clearing his throat. James, on the other hand, brushes past me, heading back inside and letting us the porch for ourselves. Mac is holding something behind his back, and I suspect it’s because he either couldn’t wrap it or didn’t want to wrap it.

“So, your present,” he begins. “I got it on an op.”

“Oh, that’s an interesting development. Tell me you stole it.”

He shakes his head, then stops, looking upward. “Maybe? I don’t think so. They didn’t try to get it back from me, so I think I got it legally.” With that, he pulls it from behind his back. “It’s a nzappa zap. Tribes in the Upper Congo region used it as a ceremonial weapon, but it was also used similarly to a tomahawk. Very deadly in use, but this one is built for a chief.”

I grasp it in my hand. It’s got a decent weight, a club like bottom, but the axe is what makes it beautiful: a dark metal, sharp as hell, with twisting loops inside the head. It looks like a work of art, but I’m sure I could decapitate someone with the right blow.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

“And deadly,” Mac adds.

“Can I use it?” I say, checking the heft once more.

“Technically, yes,” he confirms. “It is a weapon.”

“I think I’ll hang it on my wall,” I say, winking. “Thanks, Mac.”

I step forward, leaning in to kiss him, but I hear Bozer from the other room, calling for Mac.

“They still don’t know,” he whispers, so I step back. It’s better if they don’t for now, so I circumvent the kitchen to take the weapon to my bike.

It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

James lingers for a while, and eventually leaves, making it just me, Jack, Riley, Bozer, and Mac once more. It feels good, although Leanna is gone on a mission, but most of us are back together, talking and enjoying the holidays.

Although we can’t share what’s really going on, it still feels like home, especially around the fire pit after eating delayed Christmas brisket.

“We know you both ended up in Boston,” Riley begins, finishing another glass of wine. It’s about time for wine drunk Riley to get nosy. “What happened?”

I glance at Mac, and I know it’s up to me to keep our cover. “Matty had us pickpocket a mob guy. Easy. In and out at a club, got his black book and left.”

“If it was so easy, why did it take three and a half days?” Bozer asks. Mac and I share a long look from across the fire pit. Is it worth lying about? Is this worth continuing, or should we just—

“We had some shit to work out,” Mac finally admits. It’s a good enough half-truth. “And we did.”

“Matty was concerned about what was happening between us. Porto-Novo, Ouagadougou…”

“Djibouti,” Bozer says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mac says. “Nothing happened—”

“Oh my God,” Jack perks up. Like a Manchurian Candidate activation code word, he hears the name of the country and remembers what he wasn't supposed to hear after I rescued them in the Mojave. “Djibouti. You two—Mac! After Vegas—”

And our cover is blown. At least, if Jack can figure out how to speak again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack—” Mac begins.

“—they’re lying. They’re back together!”

“That didn’t last long,” Mac mumbles.

“What?!” Riley exclaims, pouring herself another large glass. “We were hoping for an apology at least. But how the hell—”

“He tried really hard,” I admit. “We were in Boston. I just… we finally spoke.”

“We had lost enough time,” Mac says through the flame. “We didn’t want to lose more.”

Jack looks like he’s gonna bust. Riley looks… well, drunk, and Bozer is quiet. I don’t know what his thoughts are, but it is what it is.

“Who all knew?” Jack says accusingly. “How long?”

“A couple weeks,” Mac says. “Matty knew. She’s the one who made it happen.”

“James knows,” I admit, shrugging.

“Wait, what?” Mac asks.

“James knows,” I say. “He told me he knew at our lunch last week.”

“You’re having lunches with Oversight?” Riley asks. She’s nearly done with her glass of wine already. It’s like she’s drinking in the drama.

“Wait, doesn’t everyone? He likes to have sit downs with his agents, make sure interpersonal relations are going smoothly so there are no surprises on ops—”

“Yeah, I think he just wanted to know your intentions with his child,” Jack says. Riley nearly snorts her wine.

Mac, on the other hand, can’t seem to rectify the truth in his head. “What did you tell him?”

“…things?”

“He’s my _dad!”_

“Well, he’s my boss, and he asked!”

“You couldn’t have been discreet?”

“I’ve lied enough to Oversight. I can’t do that anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

I follow Bozer into the kitchen to get rid of some of the bottles we had downed in the past couple of hours, but something is wrong. Something is bothering him, and I don’t know what it is.

“B, what’s up.”

He pops open a bottle of wine with a bit more ferocity than I anticipate, so I know he’s mad.

“I want you to be madder,” he finally says. “Mac left. He broke up with you. But he just left. He didn’t stop to talk to me. He never came to talk to me before he left. I’ve known him for years, Gray. Years. And he didn’t think he needed to say goodbye to me. I couldn’t sleep here for… for weeks, I—”

“I know, B. I know.”

“I know you know, but that’s what bothers me. You just… you went back to him, Gray. You went back to him without…without…”

“You don’t know what we talked about,” I say softly. “You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell him I didn’t want to talk to him. But he kept trying. And he kept trying. And eventually, he broke down. At my house. I don’t think… he didn’t think all this through, B. He made a knee jerk decision that he didn’t think about all the ramifications. The consequences. We’re the consequences.”

“He wants me to feel like everything is back to normal,” he says. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I didn’t know if I could, either. But the point is, we’re back to something. And the only way we got to that was communicating our problems to each other. The most you can do is bring it up to him.”

“I’m still pissed at you for goin’ back to him,” he says, uncorking a second bottle of wine. “But thanks for talkin’ to me about it.”

“You should talk to him about it.”

“He’s planning a camping trip soon. I’ll talk to him then.”

With his hands full, he kisses me on the cheek and starts back out.

“Wait, B, did he call it camping, or wilderness survival? Where are you going?”

He calls over his shoulder, “Somewhere in Washington, I think.”

“B, that’s not a camping trip…”

* * *

_[Classified]_

**Early January**

Matty texts me to head to the war room before I head out to my mission in Ciudad Victoria, and I know it can’t be good. I know I haven’t done anything wrong lately, so I run down the hall until I can burst into the war room. She’s finishing up a call as soon as I get there.

“_We’ll keep you updated. Have you told AJ?”_

“Just about to,” she says, hanging up the call.

“What was Bozer talking about? What happened?”

“Do not panic.”

“I’m panicking. That’s the first thing someone does after someone else says not to panic. I’m panicking, Matty.”

She just rolls her eyes. “He’s fine. MacGyver is fine, he just… got shot.”

“I’m sorry, what?! I thought they were on the wilderness survival course? How did he get shot?”

“Something to do with thieves and needing a guide, I’m telling you, he’s going to be fine. The medivac just got him out the air and he’s headed to a hospital.”

“Bozer and Riley are with him?” I ask, and I hate how much quaver is in my voice. I counter it by slipping into parade rest.

“Yeah, they’re the ones who saved his ass.”

“Good. Good. Will you keep me updated?” I ask, heading for the door.

“What, you’re not going to make some wild gesture, wanting to go to Washington?”

“Riley and Bozer are with him,” I say, even though my heart hurts. “He’ll be here when I get back.”

Matty breaks into a smile. “You’ve changed, Harps.”

“Hopefully for the better.”

“Definitely for the better. Get your ass to Mexico.”

* * *

“Mac? B? Where are you?”

“Fire pit!” Mac yells, and I slip through the hallway and out the back door. He holds up a half drank beer, cheering my arrival.

“How drunk is he?” I ask Bozer. “He probably shouldn’t be drinking on pain meds.”

“He stopped taking them,” Bozer grumbles. “Who does that sound like?”

“I don’t need them,” he says. “I actually don’t need them. I’ve had like, two beers, guys, I’m fine.”

I steal his beer and drink the rest of it, much to his chagrin. “Dude, when were you gonna call me about getting shot during the survival course?”

“When you weren’t getting shot at in Mexico.”

“There were no guns involved,” I say, tossing Mac his orange bottle of painkillers and a bottle of water. He raises his eyebrow at me, so I pop open the beer he had next to him and sit down near the fire. “There may have been an improvised flail on my part.”

“You’re evolving,” Mac says, almost creepily.

“Seriously, what was the damage?”

He holds up his bandaged hand. “Burns. Thigh shot. Cuts and bruises. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“You got shot in the thigh. That’s one of the worst places to get shot.”

“You get shot all the time, and you bounce back.”

“You can’t even go camping without getting shot at!”

“For the last time, it’s not camping!”

The three of us fall into a fit of laughter. It’s nice to see Bozer like this. I don’t know if he got to talk to Mac, but it seems like something had finally come to a head between them.

* * *

_[Classified]_

**Early January**

I head into the lab; I know Mac has to be down here. He’s grounded for now—for once, I should say—and I wanted to check in with them before I headed out.

“Damn, girl! What’s the occasion?”

I give Bozer a spin, showing off the tight black dress I had found in the back of my closet. Mac leans on his crutches, trying to keep some sort of neutral expression, but it’s not working. In fact, the blush rises on his cheeks.

“I’m going out with Matty,” I finally say. Riley looks me over, then starts rooting around in her backpack. “Her and I have some talking to do.”

“Come here,” Riley instructs, and I circumvent the table to make it to her. She pulls out a tube of lipstick. She beckons me closer and starts putting it on my lips.

“This is unfair,” Mac says, finally sliding into a chair. When Riley is done, I step closer to Mac and steal his crutches.

“What’s unfair about it?” I say. They’re still too tall for me, even with my heels on.

“You’re gonna fall, and you’re gonna break something,” Mac says conversationally.

“Where are you going?” B asks. “Somethin’ flashy? Somethin’ sexy?”

“It’ll be some place classy,” Riley says, barely looking up from her computer after putting away her lipstick. “Matty doesn’t do flashy.”

“71 Above, or something like that,” I say.

“What?” Bozer exclaims, his voice going all high pitched. “How’d you two—you know what? I’m not gonna ask. Matty probably had somethin’ to do with it.”

“Matty usually has something to do with it,” Matty says, stepping into the lab. I let out a low whistle—she’s in a dark blue top, black dress pants, and a black leather jacket. “You all need to get back to work. I need that mobster’s black book sorted out ASAP.”

“Why does AJ get to go out and we have to work?” Bozer complains.

“What makes you think she’s not working?” Matty says, looking up at me. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I give Mac back his crutches and kiss him on the cheek. Riley’s lipstick barely leaves a mark. “What is this stuff? Where can I get it?”

“You gonna be doin’ a lot of kissing tonight?” Mac says, half kidding and half serious.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Riley and Bozer create a chorus of ooo’s before I start to follow Matty out of the lab.

“Hang on, Gray, give me a second—”

Matty heads out in the hall, but I wait for B in the doorway. “You good?”

“I just wanted to thank you for what you said the other night. Before Washington,” he says. He’s quiet. He’s reserved. I know he means it. “Before it all went to hell, he and I talked. For the first time really since he left. And while I haven’t totally forgiven him, I see what you’re talkin’ about. It’s… it’s Mac. We can’t stay mad at him. But I snapped at you. I know you two. You’re endgame.”

“I don’t know if I would necessarily call it that, but—”

“Trust me. You are.”

Bozer steps back to the computers, while Mac continues fiddling with whatever electronic he was given to bide his time in the lab. He winks at me as I step back outside with Matty.

“What was that about?”

“Just clearing the air. What have you gotten them working on?”

“Decoding that black book you received in Boston. There’s some information in there that we can’t quite decipher, but I think I know what it’ll lead to.”

“You think he’s working with Kovacs?”

“I think everyone’s leading back to Kovacs,” she says. “Once we get enough information, I’m going to send you to do some intel gathering and sharing in Europe.”

“It’s not my strong suit.”

“It’s not, but you do have a good reputation there, after the Austrian incident,” she explains. “Besides. You need a few missions where you’re not being shot at.”

“That would be ideal.”

As we head outside, Matty just sighs. She seems sad all of a sudden.

“So, why are we actually going out?”

“I needed a wing woman that would be serious about the job.”

“And I’m your first pick? I’m… well, I was going to snark off about it, but I’m actually honored.”

“AJ, tell me something. Is it still a rebound if it’s been eight years?”

This is a detail I’ve never truly known about Matty. I knew she was married, a long time ago, but she never told me anything else. I’m assuming her sadness and her urging to me to go out with her stemmed from this.

But I know about long grudges, long waits. I know how they rest on a soul, and I know that’s the real reason she picked me. This wasn’t about being a wing woman in the carnal sense. This is a time to be an emotional sidekick.

“Hell, yes, Matty. Some things… unfortunately, some things you don’t rebound from. You just have to get up and move on.”

Matty seems to take that as an answer, and I feel like her and I become something different for the first time in almost sixteen years.


	17. Xolotl: Lightning and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the threat of Kovacs looming ever closer, Matty sends AJ on a diplomatic mission in an attempt to warn the intelligence community about his capabilities. But when they find a bomb at the embassy, AJ faces down the lightning and death associated with such an attack almost by herself.

_Embassy of the USA, Budapest, Hungary_

**Mid-January**

I head through the embassy, trying to do a walk and talk with the senior defense official. He won’t stop moving, and I’m getting dizzy. I’m not used to being a representative, I’m not used to making some sort of peace talks, so this is more and more frustrating for me. I should be going solo after someone with a gun drawn, not this. At least I upgraded my uniform since the last time I had to wear it. 

I know why Matty wanted me represented this way. I still hate the way the dress blues fit. I would be happier in desert or jungle camo.

“Between Kovacs and this intel we’ve received about this massive information hack, I don’t know what to tell you,” The colonel states, turning a corner into an elevator. I follow after him, exhausted from the pacing. I wish we were in a conference room. It would be much nicer than doing laps.

“What massive information hack?” I ask. “We don’t have any intel on that.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says cryptically. “Listen. I know your director is wary about Kovacs, but we will get him under control.”

“With respect, sir, I have yet to see that come to fruition,” I state. “We have faced him in various different ways the past year, and at every turn, he’s thwarted us.” Thwarted? Come to fruition? Maybe politics suits me. Maybe I’ve been around Matty too long.

“Then maybe it’s time to turn your investigation over to the U.S. Government.”

“Sir, we have more mobility than the U.S. Government. If we can’t get him, you can’t.”

He raises his eyebrows, scoffing a bit as we head into the main lobby. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he repeats. “other than we have this under control.”

“I’ve faced him myself,” I say, lowering my voice. He seems a little surprised. “He’s smart. He’s got resources. And most importantly, he’s had ten years to build up money, arms, people, what have you before launching his attacks. We know what he’s capable of.”

He turns to face him. I've already forgotten his name, but apparently, he hasn't forgotten mine. 

"You know, I looked you up. Discharged a Sergeant First Class. Special Forces, even. In your career in the U.S. Army, you did a significant amount of damage. To our enemies, and to yourself."

I straighten. I already know where he's going with this. He just looks down at my service ribbons. 

"Medal of Honor. Silver Star. Distinguished Service. Defense Distinguished Service. A Purple Heart. Several Achievement Medals. That's just the start. I'm struggling to understand why your boss thought sending you would help me understand the sheer weight of this man's power."

"_She _thought that maybe you would listen to authority, Colonel," I say. "Need I remind you that the Soldier's Handbook encourages you to salute me, even though I am a lower rank and have been discharged. Sir. So, regardless of whether you think my warnings are credible or not, I should command a little bit of respect."

He’s stopped listening to me. In fact, he’s listening to what looks like an aide who has taken his attention. I’m about to chide him, but the color barely—but noticeably—drains from his face.

“We have to evacuate the building.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“They’ve found a bomb in the basement. We need to get everyone out of here. Now.”

I lean down, pull up my blue pant leg, and pull my Colt from my ankle and cock it. He stops, taking precious time to say, “How did you even get that in here?”

“I’m a spy, Colonel. At least I’m on your side.”

With that, I head for the fire escape. I need to start at the top and work our way down.

Before long, there’s a sound of pounding feet. I don’t know how much time we have, but I know it’s not long.

I make it to the top, but everyone’s working silently. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get all these people’s attention without terrorizing them—

What would MacGyver do?

Like I’m not inside my body anymore, I reach across the hallway and pull the fire alarm before calling out, “Everyone out! Let’s go!”

I feel like I’m waiting forever as the top floor clears out. I hide my gun as I check through the offices, push one man to hang up his call, and they’re headed down the stairwell.

Luckily, my fire alarm trick is working, but it’s not going fast enough. I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.

I go through that floor, making sure it’s clear, and I don’t find anyone. It’s been fifteen minutes. How long do bomb timers usually last? Did it even have a timer?

God, I wish Mac were here. He could disarm this bomb, and then we would be done with this party.

Oh God. What if the bomb blows?

I pull out my phone. I don’t even know what time it is over there. I call him anyways—

“_Hey, AJ. What’s up?”_

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just… just hoppin’ around Europe,” I say, heading down to the next floor down. It’s nearly empty. I just push them out into the fire escape.

“_I’m headed over to Jack’s in a little bit. When are you headed home?”_

“I… well, I don’t know, Mac, ” I say, trying to hide the quaver in my voice. I shouldn’t tell him. I shouldn’t say anything. I should just—”Just wanted to see what you were up to. Check in, you know. I… I love you, Mac.”

He gets silent for a moment. _“I love you. AJ, are you okay—”_

“I… I gotta go. Tell… tell Jack I said hi.”

I hang up and put my phone away. It’ll be good enough. We both know the stakes.

I head towards the stairwell. I don’t know how much time we have left—

* * *

I don’t remember. That’s my first thought as I start to rip myself back to consciousness. I don’t remember what was happening before. All I can hear is buzzing. Incessant buzzing. I can’t stand up. I don’t know what went wrong, but I can’t stand up, and something’s holding me back. It’s so Goddamn dark in here, I’m not even sure—

I smell burning. Where the hell am I? Where was I before—

I try to get up. I try to stand up, but something is pushing me back down into the building. The shattered parts of the building? There’s burning, there’s creaking. Something’s wrong with my shoulder. When I look, I see what the problem seems to be: an I-beam collapsed, pushing me into the floor. I can wiggle my fingers, but it doesn’t feel the best.

The bomb went off. I don’t know if everyone got out. I don’t know who made it—

No one’s coming, AJ. No one’s coming to help. The bomb went off. You can’t hear anything. Shit isn’t going to get any better. Not unless you do something about it.

I rear back with my feet, kicking the nearest girder. Part of the building around me shifts, and for a second, I think that’s it. That’s a wrap on Athena Harper. Not my favorite way to go. In fact, my claustrophobia is starting to set in.

I need to get out of here. I need to find my own way out. No one’s coming for me. God, my head hurts. I really hope I didn’t get conked. That would make things a hell of a lot worse. The sun is starting to set. It’s gonna go to hell if I can’t get out tonight. It would take at least ten hours for someone to get to me from the Phoenix, and that’s if I could even get a call out. I don’t even know if my phone survived this. It’s unlikely.

I slip my hand into my pocket. The screen is cracked, but when I try to wake it up, it turns on.

I can’t see through the spindly cracks on my phone. Instead, I go on instinct and try to open the phone app, then call the first recent call. I hope it’s someone at Phoenix. I need for it to be someone at Phoenix.

_“AJ? AJ, we’re already on our way, are you okay—”_

I let out a heavy sigh. It’s Mac. Thank God.

“Mac, are you… are you at Phoenix?”

“_We’re on our way to you,” _He repeats. “_Matty sent us as soon as she confirmed you were in Budapest during the bombing. We’re about four hours out. You didn’t tell me…”_

“Not now,” I mutter. “Mac, not now—”

_“Are you safe?”_

“No, not even close,” I say, although I’m feeling tears roll down my face. At least, I hope it’s tears. I’d rather it be tears than blood. “I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know what to do, Mac. I need out of here.” I let out a laugh, but it’s a desperate laugh.

_“Babe, where… where are you?”_ His voice cracks.

“The embassy… I tried to make it stop, Mac. I tried to stop the bomb. I tried, but—”

_“You were in inside the embassy?!”_

“It’s not past tense, Mac, I can’t—I can’t get out. I’m stuck in the rubble.”

I hear Jack cursing in the background. I try to push the weight off my shoulder again, but it only manages to make me cry out in pain. Mac speaks again, this time, his voice wavering. He’s panicking and doesn’t want me to know.

_“What… what’s got you pinned, Harps? Talk… talk to me.”_

“An I-Beam, I think. It’s heavy, Mac. I think…. I think it broke my shoulder.”

_“Can you feel your hand?”_

“Fingers are intact,” I confirm. God, my head hurts. Okay. Focus. There’s gonna be no way to get this beam off of my shoulder by pushing. What the hell else can I do—

_“Just hold tight. We’re almost there, Harps.”_

“I don’t know how long I can stay here, Mac. It’s getting dark, and the air is getting hard to breathe.”

_“Don’t panic. The moment you start panicking, it’s gonna get so much worse. Please. Stay… stay calm.”_

“I just want to go home,” I hear myself say. My voice quavers more than I want it to, and my lungs have started to burn a little.

_“I know, babe. I know. We’re gonna get you home. I promise.”_

Something shifts. I push my phone under my body, to protect it. It’s my only way to protect my line out of here, but as the building starts to shift around me, it’s black.

* * *

I might be dead. Whatever light I had before, it’s gone. I’m buried in darkness. I’m buried in dust. I don’t know if I survived this one.

Wouldn’t that be fucking poetic? After how many times I’ve been shot at, or kidnapped, or—or in the middle of wars, it would be a damn building collapse that would take me down.

I’m shaking in the cold. It’s starting to feel like Siberia again. God, I don’t want that. I don’t want to die in the cold. I know Mac and Jack are coming, but it can’t be good. It’s going to take too long.

Think, AJ. Think. You’ve been in worse scrapes. You’ve been in much worse.

You know that feeling you get when you just seem to slip out of consciousness? Like the blackness circles around your sight and suddenly you’re waking up in a different place?

The world around me feels like static. It’s like TV static, black and white and sparking. It makes me numb. It makes my head hurt. But no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t stop. 

I shut my eyes tight. I see the flash-bang of the explosion, like it’s imprinted on the back of my eyes.

Searches had to have stopped. I don’t know why they couldn’t find me. Maybe I was too deep in the rubble. Maybe I’ll never get out.

I don’t like this. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be buried alive. I don’t know how to get out, but I push. I try to push, but nothing moves. There’s no way I’m going to get out of here.

I try to scream, but I’m hoarse. Nothing comes out.

I’ve never been truly scared to die. I haven’t wanted to, sure, but I’ve never been scared.

As I try to push against the metal, the heavy metal, the crushing metal, I feel the crushing, heavy terror I’ve never really faced before.

* * *

This time, when I gasp back to consciousness, I don’t smell the burning anymore. All I hear is a faint ringtone.

Wait, it’s mine. Muffled from being in dust and debris and under my body. I struggle to dig it out. It’s still ringing. I struggle to press the answer button through the shattered glass.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I mutter hoarsely.

_“I got her!”_ Mac cries. _“AJ, you’re still okay? Did you get out?”_

“How long—”

_“We’re landing,”_ Jack says. _“Soon.”_

“My phone’s gonna die,” I whimper. “It’s not gonna last much longer.”

Mac chuckles, even though it seems a bit forced. _“You are not allowed to black out again, okay?”_

“I’ll try, but no promises.”

_“I want to ask you about the I-beam.”_

I try to shift to get a decent look, but it’s getting too dark. “Heavy metal, and not the fun kind,” I manage. Each time I breathe it starts to hurt. I know this weight isn’t helping.

“What about the debris under you? Can you dig yourself out?”

I’m pretty sure whatever below me is ash and debris. Even though it hurts in my chest, I take a deep breath, hold it, close my eyes, and dig my free hand into the pile below my other shoulder, trying to dig myself out. My hand sinks in like it’s a handful of potpourri. I keep going, pushing through until I may be able to dislodge myself.

My hands are shaking so badly, I don’t know if I’m going to get anywhere. But I have to focus. I have to do something. I can’t just lay here and die.

_“Is it working?”_ Jack’s voice. He sounds horrible. He sounds like he’s going through as much hell as I am.

“I don’t… I don’t know yet.”

But I’m already exhausted. It takes everything out of me to try to get through. In the ambient dark, I can start to see my breath when I exhale. It’s getting too cold. I’m not going to deal with this in a graceful way, especially if the temperature keeps dropping.

Stop panicking. Stop freaking out. You’re still relatively coherent, and you’re going to probably walk away from this.

Probably.

I push deeper into the debris, and I feel the pressure start to release from my shoulder. It makes me cry out as the pain hits me harder than it did before. Something’s definitely broken, but with just a short pull—

“Oh, dammit, c’mon—”

I’m out, and the I-beam only shifted down a little bit. Gotta plan my exit. Tight space.

_“AJ?” _Mac’s voice again.

“I see the sky,” I say, even though my voice is barely better than a wheeze. I have to lead with my broken shoulder, but I start to push myself through an open section of the collapsed building. Grasping my phone like a lifeline, it’s not long before I make it to fresh air.

“I’m out,” I attempt, but I barely make it to the top of the debris before I’m ready to collapse again. At least my comparison point is Istanbul, and the pain here is considerably less. Even still, the inability to breathe doesn’t come with high or low settings, and it sucks no matter what. “Mac, we can’t stay in this country. We have to get out as soon as possible. Kovacs is… he’s here, and he’s… he’ll know we are.”

_“Harps, we’ll be there soon,”_ Mac says. I find an alleyway not far from where the Embassy used to be and slip down into the darkness, thankful for the cold air. It almost reminds me of Siberia.

“I know you will,” I say. And then it’s black.

* * *

I see the blast. I see the flash of light and I have to be dead.

“Hold her down, she’s gonna hurt herself—”

“Thea, you’re fine! You’re out!”

Jack grasps onto me, trying to stop me from moving but I can’t. He needs to let go of me. I push myself up against the wall. Jack holds me down, coaching me on my breathing.. As soon as he pulls it away, the shakes come, and the tears come.

I see the top of the cabin of the Phoenix jet. I don’t even remember them coming to find me. I don’t remember them bringing me here—how long was I out?

Jack is there, kneeling next to me.

“It was Kovacs, wasn’t it?”

I muster a nod.

“How long have you known about him?”

“A while,” I wheeze.

He nods, like he knew it all along, but he didn’t blame me. We both know that it was Matty’s doing, and we’ll follow those orders.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jack says. I immediately shake my head.

Mac returns, and I can’t stop shaking. I can’t fucking stop. He tries to wipe something from my face, and comes away with black dirt and blood.

“Where are we?” I ask. I sound frantic. I can’t make it stop.

“Halfway over the Atlantic,” Mac says. “AJ—”

I start trying to breathe again, but the room starts to close in. It’s too tight again, the walls are closing in, and I feel like I’m smashed below the I-beam.

“Hey. Hey, focus. Look at me. AJ? AJ. Listen. You’re fine. You’re here with me. Okay? Okay? Can you hear me?”

I can hear him, but I feel like my ears are buzzing again. Too many bombs. Too many gunshots. Too many. Too many. I nod, but I feel like a liar. I have a feeling I’m going to be lying a lot for a while.

“You’re goin’ after him, aren’t you?” I ask, glancing to Jack.

“Leading a task force,” Jack confirms. “This is my last Phoenix op.”

I close my eyes and let the tears fall.


	18. Ananke: Inevitability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jack gone to the lead the team looking for Kovacs and AJ down with another injury, Matty brings in another ringer to protect the team— and much to AJ’s relief, she’s an old friend. But as they continue to investigate the code book they stole in Boston, certain players are coming together— Murdoc, Kovacs, and an unnamed man hiding in the shadows. That information, though, isn’t what will make AJ break— it’s the crushing inevitability of her own ticking clock.

_Hollywood Hills, CA_

**Mid-January**

81 dead. 81 dead in that attack in Budapest, and I somehow survived. Like every time I had suffered some sort of disastrous injury, Mac and Jack made it back.

But now Jack was gone, and I don’t know what we’re going to do. For the time being, I’m unable to protect the team. Besides, I’m not always the one going with them on their rapid-fire missions, so there’s no doubt they’re going to need someone else to go with them that could handle a firearm.

I wake up too early to buzzing in my ears and a too-fast heartbeat. It had been happening more and more lately. I didn’t know how to stop it, and I didn’t want to have to share it with my therapist.

I know what’s wrong. It’s panic. It’s PTSD. But I don’t know why it was the bombing that set it off. After how many times I had been shot or buried alive or near death, that’s the one that made me spiral.

It’s already taken me this long to get back to a relative sense of normal. For the first time since December, I’ve stayed over at Mac’s. It’s a new thing, it’s an old thing, it’s something he was almost too eager to ask me to do.

He heads out of the bathroom before me, so I finish brushing out my hair after our shower.

God. Everything’s getting back to some sort of normal.

But I shouldn’t dwell on it anymore. It’ll only send me on a spiral.

But I hear a voice, one that shouldn’t belong in Mac’s house at this time of the day, especially not in Mac’s bedroom. I get dressed and wait for an out.

“Your alarm system’s a joke, and a toddler could pick your locks. Jack said you were smart. So far, I’m not convinced.”

I know that cadence—I haven’t heard that voice in years. Ten, maybe? Seven? I smile. She’s lecturing Mac about his home security, and I’ll be able to get the drop on her for the first time. It’s enough to give me a brief moment of happiness.

“Two quick things: one, you’re out of chips. And two? You’re dead.”

I push open the bathroom door, leaning on the door frame. “I don’t approve of you murdering my man in cold blood.”

She turns towards the bathroom, raising her eyebrows at me. Mac can’t speak for some reason, and I think it should have something to do with him standing there with a towel around his waist with two women. At least, that’s what I think. At any rate, he finally stutter-starts until he comes out with a sentence.

“Desi, meet AJ Harper. Harps, meet Desi Nguyen. She’s taking over for Jack, apparently.”

I size her up, at least for Mac’s benefit. She does the same, but she breaks first into a chuckle.

“Dez,” I say, stepping forward and giving her a hug. “How you been?”

“Of course,” Mac mutters. “Dez.”

“So you and Baby Einstein? Really?” She says, glancing from me to Mac and back again. “How long as this been going on?”

“Officially or unofficially?”

She glares at me. “Both.”

“Ten years, unofficially. About three years officially.”

She brushes past Mac and heads to the hallway. “Do you have to go to work?”

I slip on my sling instead of explaining to her. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As soon as she gets out of ear shot, Mac gently pulls me into him. The kiss he gives me is longer than I anticipate—“What was that for?”

“So, I’m your man now?” He whispers.

“Oh, shut up and get dressed. That smug look isn’t good on you.”

I shut the door behind me, hearing him laugh as I do. Dez, on the other hand, is already shoulder deep in that ancient fridge of his.

I know the team is going to be perfectly fine.

* * *

_[Classified]_

**Late January**

The update Matty promised me isn’t so much of an update so far. As she looks over some information on the war room screen, I readjust so I’m not standing in parade rest. It’s a little hard to do with a sling. I should be used to it by now, but here we are.

“We still don’t know what the code could lead to,” she finishes. “But for now, that black book remains unsolved.”

“What led you to that information in the first place?” I ask.

Matty sighs first. “Some information that Jill dredged up during her investigation on Murdoc.”

“Are you telling me that this guy was dealing with both Murdoc and Kovacs?”

“It’s a possibility,” Matty says, setting down her tablet on the low table. “He was running weapons. He could have been doing a number of deals with a number of people. That’s why we need to figure out how to break his code.”

“Why don’t we just bring him in?”

“That’s going to be impossible,” she says, pulling up an article on the big screen.

Boston, last week. A news article about a shootout. The man I had pickpocketed was brutally murdered in the street.

“Any leads?”

“None whatsoever.”

“You thinking it’s Murdoc?”

“Murdoc, Kovacs, someone else not wanting his information revealed to the world,” Matty muses. “I’m not sure it matters who did it. We’re running down some of his connections, and we’re hoping to find someone involved or close to him that may have access to the man’s codes. Or someone who can break them.”

“Jill would have been able to,” I whisper, peering up at the article and the obituary on the screen.

Matty doesn’t respond at first. Instead, she gestures for me to sit. I follow her orders.

“Harps, how are you doing?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

She doesn’t break eye contact. It’s almost too much for me to handle.

“You’ve been through a hell of a lot in the last year.”

“The last two years, I would say.”

“It’s enough to make anyone want to break.”

I sigh. “Listen. Getting hurt? That’s fine. I can handle that. It’s all the shit that comes with it. The healing. The sitting. The waiting. The… the….”

“The nightmares?” Matty offers. It’s not angry, it’s not mean, it’s just a little short.

“Yes, okay, the nightmares. But we all get them. It’s not a weird thing. We all knew we would end up at that point sometime.”

“Will you let me know if it ever gets to ‘that point’?” Matty asks.

“Of course,” I say, swallowing the fear.

Each wound, each event, each fire, each bombing, reawakens a memory I had pushed down inside.

And I’m afraid, each time, that it’s going to be the event that blows up the entire dam and sends me into some sort of spiral I can’t escape from.

* * *

_[Classified]_

**Late February**

I hear the gunfire. It’s quiet, like it’s far away. The familiar sound of an RPG. Jack crying out to me. The crying of the child I had to run to save. The bullet wound that laid me out for weeks.

“Athena. Athena, are you listening?”

“I’m sorry. Sorry, what?”

I don’t know how long I had been sitting there, quiet, on the couch of the Phoenix therapist. She looks like she’s been waiting patiently, but that could mean any number of things.

“I asked if you were still having the nightmares.”

“The nightmares never really stop,” I admit. “They change. They develop. They’re like… their own little soap operas at this point.”

She shifts in her seat. I’m afraid of what kind of question she’s going to ask next, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here because Matty told me to. I’m just not positive it’s helping.

“Have they been getting worse?”

“Actually, yeah.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I scoff. In the silence, as she waits for my answer, I hear the gunfire. Instead of tinnitus, it’s muzzle flashes. I feel myself jolt.

“Honestly, ever since I started coming to you.”

The truth comes out, so it seems. She doesn’t seem fazed. Still, she pushes.

“Why do you think that is?”

This one, I’m quick to answer. “I’m wicked good at pushing everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through, down inside. I’ve forgotten about more horrors than I can remember. But every time you make me talk about something, I relive it. So, if you’re asking whether therapy is helping or hurting me, I’m gonna dare to say that it might actually be fucking me up a little.”

“You think talking about the things you’ve done or seen has made your mental state worse?”

“When you put it like that, well, yeah.”

She looks at me over her little tablet. I want to shove it into her face, but I know how to play the game. I know Matty wants to hear that I’m doing better. Matty wants to hear that I’m not going to go on a suicidal pain train anytime soon.

But this? This isn’t going to help. This isn’t how my people function. What does that one comedian say? Irish people keep their emotions all bottled up until one day, they’ll die.

Only I would fail at therapy.

“It’s been almost two years since the incident in Siberia.”

I look towards the windows. I’d rather be out there. “If I marked every single anniversary of when I’ve skirted death, I would be celebrating every other week.”

“What happened last year at this time?”

I don’t answer. I remember. I found myself at a rainy Venice Beach, staring out into an ocean that looked like winter. This time, I don’t know. I just want to be out of here.

So, I shrug in response.

“Alright, Athena. Here’s your option. I’m going to clear you for duty with the caveat that if the Director has any issues with you, she’s going to send you straight to me.”

“Do not pass Go, do not collect $200?” I suggest, already picking up my leather jacket. “Sounds good to me.”

I’m in the hallway before I realize it. Thanks for nothing.

I hear the gunfire.


	19. Angerona: Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As AJ tries to heal, both physically and psychologically, she’s hit with the truth about James MacGyver. Still, they press forward, and AJ attempts to acquire a code that might break the book and give them intel on weapons smuggling rings throughout the world. At any rate, the fear lingers, unchecked.

_Hollywood Hills, CA_

**Late February**

I slam my fist on the door of Mac’s house to attempt to alert them to my presence, but it’s Bozer who calls out to me once I get inside. He’s standing in the kitchen, looking definitely more exhausted than usual, his arm in a familiar sling.

“Hey, B. How are you doing?”

“The usual. You know. Gettin’ shot ain’t it all cracked up to be.”

“Tell me about it.”

He looks at me sidelong, and he knows at least this time, I’m being serious. Instead of addressing it, like we had been so apt to avoid, I set the groceries bags on the counter.

“Thought you might like some help.”

“I would absolutely love some help.”

“What is he up to?” I ask, unloading some of the items so B didn’t have to. “I didn’t see him when I came in.”

“Oh, garage,” he says, gesturing with some of the produce. “He’s been down all day. Don’t know why. Maybe you should take a crack at him.”

I roll my eyes, opening the door to the garage. Inside, Mac is underneath his motorcycle, wrenching on some part of it that I can’t see from here. She’s looking good. She’s looking nearly roadworthy. I don’t know how long he’s been working on it without me, but it’s fine. It’s an outlet for him. He’s trying.

But something else distracts me. I look over to his speakers, his phone. I check the playlist he’s playing. The familiar song builds until it’s blasting—

“I can feel this narcolepsy slide into another nightmare—”

“I can’t believe you’re still listening to this playlist,” I call out over the sound. He jolts a little.

“Oh. AJ. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I was lurking. Did you convert that playlist to Spotify?”

He finally gets to his feet, wiping the dirt and oil on a rag, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. His hands are still covered. He seems to realize it and just tosses the rag onto the table next to me.

“Maybe I did.”

“I didn’t know you liked it that much,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Why wouldn’t I? It reminds me of you.”

“You’re more sentimental than I ever thought.”

He kisses me lightly, but I sense something else on his mind. He fiddles with his phone, finds another tool, all in silence. I know better than to ask. He smacks the wrench against his hand a few times, opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again until he finally decides to talk.

“I found out my dad has cancer.”

“W-what? How? When?”

“I’m thinking that’s why he wanted to reconnect. Or some other ulterior motive. I don’t know. I’m having trouble trusting him right now, and then this.”

“Mac, that’s completely understandable. But remember where he’s coming from, too.”

He sighs. “I knew you would come at it from a different perspective.”

“Isn’t that what makes us work?” I say, uncrossing my arms. “Listen. I know he’s an asshole. I know he did unspeakable things to you. And nothing is going to change the past. You can change the future, though. Maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. I think he deserves a little.”

He doesn’t look too thrilled about it, but I know he’s going to listen to me. It’s a smart move. It’s not the easy move.

“Mac, if I had another chance with my dad, I would at least try. He wasn’t the best dad, and he wasn’t the most present, but I would have to give him a chance. He’s still my dad.”

He continues smacking the wrench against his hand before dropping back down underneath the motorcycle.

“You’re right,” he finally harrumphs.

I lean down and change the song on his playlist. I listen to it for a little while. I forgot how much I liked it.

“… and the bruises that you feel will heal and I hope you’ll come around, ‘cause we’re missing you…”

* * *

_Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina_

**Early March**

I make sure my Valkyrie is secure in its backpack, check for additional clips, and make it off the plane last. Mac waits for me at the gate, while Dez lingers over near the Jeep they had commandeered.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asks, and I just give him a long look.

“It’s not like this is a vacation,” I say, glancing at the motorcycle Matty had somehow procured for me. “It’s a mission. I’ll meet you back here in a few days.”

“Seriously, though. If you need help, call me.”

“Same to you,” I say, a bit more forcefully than I really intend. Instead of chiding me for it, he kisses me. I take it. I’m optimistic, this should be a quick mission for the both of us, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling the butterflies in my stomach and hear the gunfire in my head.

I shake it out as quickly as it arrives. They’re already gone.

I hop on the motorcycle. Supposedly, the woman I’m tracking down has the code we need to decipher the codebook we stole in Boston. I’m not sure what organization she’s part of yet, but I don’t need that information. I don’t care about that information.

On a whim, though, before I head out, I call up Jack. The phone rings and rings, never going to voicemail. Before I hang up, I hear his voice.

“_Yo, Thea, what’s up?”_

“Where are you?”

_“Is this a secure line?”_

“It’s about as secure as it’s gonna be,” I comment. “I’m in Bosnia.”

“_Wait, why?”_ There’s some rustling from the other end, but he seems to hold it off.

“Long story short, lookin’ for someone. I need a codebook she’s got.”

“_She? Who are you looking for?”_

“Csilla Mészáros.”

_“Looks like you’re in luck. We’re lookin’ for her, too.”_

“What do you want from her?”

“_Supposed to know where Kovacs is. Taken us weeks to track her down. Wanna team up? Would love to see your pretty little face!”_

“What’s your location?”

He seems to check over something, yells to someone else.

“_We’re gonna stage at this abandoned Bobsled track down the hill from her loc,” he says. “About 15 klicks from the airport, I think.”_

_“_Damn, Walk. You sound so official.”

“_Yeah, well, I’m tryin’,_” he says. There’s a brief moment of silence, like he’s walking away from the group. “_You doin’ okay? Everything going alright? How’s Mac?”_

“Why don’t we talk about this after we get what we need from Mészáros, okay?”

_“Yeah, yeah. You right. You right. I’ll see you soon, okay?”_

It takes me about twenty minutes to roll up on the old, graffiti covered bobsled track. Jack’s got a tac team there with him—I count six men quietly preparing to take the hill. He looks all official at first, and I get flashes of him when we were in desert camo. It’s almost debilitating, the shift, but I get it together quickly, before he notices.

But when he notices, the mood completely shifts. He runs to me, pulls me into a tight hug, not caring about what the tac team saw. And they see it all.

“Hey, Walker. Hey, it’s cool, I’m here—oh, come on, you’re gonna embarrass me in front of the team—”

“I don’t give a fuck, Thea. I’m startin’ the debrief, glad you made it.”

“I’m wondering why you need eight people to take this lady alive,” I say, eyeing the graffiti with a cautious eye.

I don’t like this area. I’m not sure what to expect, although I’m pretty happy to have backup.

“She’s scheduled to make a weapons deal here at 1400 hours,” Jack says, pointing at the map on his tablet. There’s a road leading up there, but I don’t think we’re going to want to take it. “We’re gonna head up now and surround the area. Make sure she has no way of egress.”

“What if I head up now and get inside the tower?” I say, pointing at an area I assume she’s going to be using for her deal. Jack opens up a better satellite image. It looks like an old, crumbling observatory. But it’s high up, and would be convenient to have eyes that high. “Let me go in, get a position. That way I can slow her down if we need to.”

“Not a bad idea,” he muses. He takes longer to think now. He’s not as flippant with his decisions. I want to know what changed, but now is not the time to talk about it.

“I should start now if I’m going to make it in time,” I add.

“Harper, go ahead and find a sniper nest. Radio it in when you get settled,” he says, tossing me a small handheld radio. “We’ll surround the area and wait for her to make the deal. You can take the codebook, we can take her, and we’ll all be better off.”

It takes me ten minutes to make it up the hill to the towers. I don’t try to hide myself, I’m sure there’s plenty of urban explorers that make the trek all the time. The location itself is a little creepy: off on a hill, all alone, two abandoned towers. It used to be an observatory, I think, before it was destroyed in the war. Which war? I don’t know. There’s too many wars over here.

I head for what I expect would give me the best cover: the brick building, the castle-like building, with small windows and a ledge at the top. There’s already stairs leading upward, so I take it in stride; it’s not long before I make it up to the roof. The view here would be better if this country had the funding to rebuild, but sometimes, I wonder if they’re just waiting for the next war.

For a moment, I’m glad I live in LA.

Still, I pull out my Valkyrie and put it together, settling in for whatever may come. After radioing to Jack, he lets me know they had a visual on her and she was headed up to the observatory.

I get shot of adrenaline. That hasn’t happened in a long time. It actually feels kind of nice, the excitement running through my veins.

_“In position.”_ Is all Jack says over the comms. I sink down into the stones and wait. I don’t want her to see the barrel of my gun, so I’m going blind.

It doesn’t take long. She seems to be a creature of habit.

I hear the car before I see it. I hear her footsteps on the stones. She seems to linger, quietly, around the area.

I’m not sure what sets her off. I hear the familiar click of a handgun’s safety getting toggled.

I quietly activate my radio. “She’s heard something.”

She unloads a clip over my head. I didn’t make a noise, I didn’t do anything, I—

I don’t make a sound. I know the boys are already making their way over, so I crawl to another position. She reloads. I’m not even sure…. what the hell did she even hear?

It’s fine. We’re all fine. I’m fine. I close my eyes tight over the sound of gunfire.

It’s not in my head this time.

“_Thea, call out!”_

I struggle to find the radio, but the buzzing in my head is almost too much. I try to breathe through it. The shooting has stopped. I don’t know if they took her alive or dead. I’m not sure I want to know.

“She’s got backup!” One of Jack’s men call out. I look over the ledge, and see what looks like a Humvee. No, it’s a truck. Some men jump out. I don’t know if they’ve taken her. It doesn’t matter to me, I just need her codebook.

Aim, dammit. Aim. Why are my hands so shaky? I can’t focus. I can’t even aim.

I find my radio. “Shoot to kill?”

_“We’ve got the mark. She’s in custody. I don’t care what you do with her men,”_ Jack responds. It’s dark, but it’s a concept we had along time ago.

Almost like a flash of a memory, the Bahamas comes to mind. It was a bad time. Jack and I were in a dark place. I can’t even consider the humorous part of the mission we always talked about—Jack trying to run down the beach in his bare feet. No. It’s what came after that. It’s me, posted up in Fort Charlotte, dug down into the sand, the heat. I remember thinking it was so different from July in Boston. It’s enough to make my skin burn. But I remember Jack. I remember not using comms. I remember seeing those tangos headed for him.

I remember breathing, breathing through the shaking, the terror, the fear, and shooting twice.

Three of them went down.

Jack had given me the kill order. I’m not going to let him down.

Before I even realize it, they’re down. I’m not even sure any of them got off a shot.

Confirmed kills 57 through 62. Did Kuznetsov count? Maybe I’m to 63. Who knows.

I hear Jack start whooping as I pack up my rifle and head down the stone stairs. Some of his men deal with the mark. I step up to her, reach in her jacket, and pull out the codebook. I look at the first page. It’s all right here.

I slip in my own jacket. That’s all I needed. That’s all we came for.

“Yo, Thea, that was a good shoot—”

“I know it was,” I say, stepping past him. I’m still in a fog. I’m still reminded of Fort Charlotte.

“You… you good, Thea?”

“I’m good, Jack.”

He straightens a little. I’m not sure why.

“You headed back to the mainland?”

“Uh, yeah. Probably going to have to wait on Dez and Mac, but yeah.”

“Well, you did us a helluva solid here. Give my best to the team. Tell Matty…”

“Something slightly inappropriate, I know.”

He winks. “You know me. Stay safe.” Without another word, Jack drops a kiss on my cheek.

I head down the road.

I don’t look at the dead bodies. I don’t need to. I’ll see them in my nightmares.


	20. Poena: Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ finds out about the reasoning behind Billy and Riley breaking up. Regardless of the fact that she had given up her attempts to enact vengeance to those who wronged her, AJ took the step backwards to enact a well deserved punishment on the Colton boy.

_Hollywood Hills, CA_

**Mid March**

When I shut the front door, I see Mac, clad in plaid, hugging Riley in the kitchen. She’s laughing, but when I get closer, I see tears running down her face.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

He finally lets go of her, and she wipes the tears from her face. Mac tries to make a face of ‘don’t ask’ but I just wait. I don’t want to see her crying. I’m already seething. My anger is on a hair trigger these days. It might be the gunfire I hear in the back of my head.

“Was it Billy? Did he do something to you?”

She sighs. “How do you do that?”

“What did he do?”

“AJ, don’t,” Mac starts in.

“I broke up with him.” She announces it almost quietly, but defiantly.

“What did he do?” I repeat.

“He was seeing someone else,” she says. “I found out during the mission.”

Immediately, I hand her my keys. She looks down at them in her hand as I get myself a beer.

“What are these for?”

“Because you’re the only person who can stop me from getting on my bike right now and beating that smooth jerk to a bloody pulp.”

“Fair enough,” Riley says, pocketing my keys. “Well, I better go tell Bozer.”

“I’ll get something to burn,” Mac says.

I just find myself lurking in the kitchen, the anger seething in my bones. I’ve never seen Riley like that. I never wanted her to suffer like that. But I know I have, and before I realize it, I’m looking up information about Billy on my phone. I know I told her I wouldn’t. But I can’t. The need for retribution slips into bloodstream faster than I could ever believe. Maybe this is who I am now. I don’t necessarily turn it away.

I wonder how hard it would be to find him. Maybe I could track him, but I would have to ask Riley to do it, and that’s no good. Maybe I can talk to Sam. She might be able to help. I text her quickly, knowing it’s probably early morning over there, but she’s quick to answer.

_Why do you need his location?_

I text her back. _Cheated on Riley._

She doesn’t quite get back to me yet. Not until Mac comes back into the kitchen.

“Don’t.”

I glance up to him. Still, with the hatred in my bones, he peers at me with his kind eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. The lock of hair flops over his eyes. It’s hard enough for me to be angry when he looks at me like that, but I have to hold onto it. It’s all I know right now. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you want to go after him. Don’t do it.”

“Too late,” I say, waving my phone in the air. Immediately, I get a text from Sam.

_Headed east. Looks like he’s driving. What are you going to do?_

_Not sure yet. _

_Be careful._

I show Mac my phone and he gives me a long, unamused look.

“And what do you think you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I say, putting down my barely touched beer bottle. I have a feeling I’m going to need my keys from Riley. “I haven’t thought that far yet. Hey, do you have your phone?”

He eyes me, but for some reason, he still trusts me. He hands it to me and I start looking through the contacts until I find one listed as Mama Colton. I press the call button and Mac doesn’t even stop me this time.

It rings a few times before she answers.

_“Boy, you better have a good reason to be callin’ me at a time like this.”_

“I’m sorry to deceive you, ma’am, but this is AJ Harper, Mac’s girlfriend. I wanted to speak on behalf of Riley Davis. I just discovered that she and your son have broken up due to the fact that he was dating someone else at the same time.”

_“I’m sorry, can you repeat yourself, dear? Sounds like you’re tellin’ me my son is a cheater.”_

“Ma’am, I am doing just that.”

She seems to seethe. It’s a familiar feeling. When I look to Mac, he looks terrified, like I might say the wrong word and set this Mama Colton on fire.

“I’m asking your permission to exact some well-deserved punishment.”

_“Miss Harper, I do not condone lying, and I know for a fact I taught him better than this. You leave him whole in the end, but do what you have to do.”_

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

_“I appreciate you comin’ to me about this. He’ll get his due on my end, I promise.”_

I hang up the phone and toss it back to Mac. “Ask Riley for my keys?” I ask.

“You’re not going alone, you know that, right?”

“Well, then, saddle up, McClane. I’m going after him, and you can’t stop me.”

“I’m gonna have to stop you from murdering him, anyway,” He sighs, slightly defeated. It doesn’t matter. I start checking over what weapons I have with me. My usual guns, my knife—

“Do you carry everywhere you go?” Mac says, coming back into the room to toss me my keys. In response, he’s already putting on his jacket and grasps his helmet.

“Wait, you got her fixed?”

“You haven’t seen her yet. She’s beautiful,” he admits. Before we leave, I lean out onto the porch.

“Hey, all, we’ll be back in the morning,” I call out. “Don’t wait up for us!”

“AJ, please, for the love of God, do not kill him,” Riley says, not even looking up from the fire pit.

“I’m not responsible for injuries or accidents! Love you, bye!”

I know I shouldn’t love retribution this much, but I pull the feeling over my shoulders like a warm blanket. Now, to catch up to him and find a place to enact his punishment.

* * *

We find him at a Chevron gas station outside of Ludlow. Along Route 66, stops like these had fallen into disuse, but I have a feeling I could easily come up with a place to lock him down.

It doesn’t take him long to realize he’s been set up. In fact, I make sure he knows he’s being followed. He does the right thing and leaves the gas station, heads east on Route 66.

He stops his car in the middle of the road, steps out and aims a gun at me. I finally get off my bike and take off my helmet.

“Who the hell are you, and what do you want?”

I distract him, pulling my own gun and leaving it at my side. Would I take a bullet for this? Yeah, sure. Not the first time. And I would do it for Riley. Even looking at his face is making me feel sick.

“You really don’t have a choice here,” I begin. “I want my pound of flesh for what you did.”

“Would really like to know what it is you think I did,” he says. He starts in again, but he’s cut off, because Mac has rendered him unconscious with a smack to his dome.

I’m not sure he was supportive of this at the beginning, but as we drag him into the abandoned house just off the road and tie him to a chair I’ve found inside, I think he’s getting a bit of sick pleasure from my revenge run.

“Go move his car behind the building across the street,” I order, waiting for Billy to wake up.

“You gonna be able to handle this on your own?”

I read between the lines. He means, are you going to be able to not kill him before I get back?

“I’ll be fine. I promise you I won’t kill him.”

He kisses me quickly before heading out.

As Billy starts to wake up, I cock my gun right in front of his ear. I’m not going to use it. Not for anything but a bludgeoning tool. But it’s still nice to instill that fear. I run the barrel of it over his chin, squatting down next to him.

“Don’t even think about opening your mouth,” I start. “Do you know who I am? Do you even remember who I am?”

He squints at me for a while, and then it rushes back.

“AJ Harper. Riley’s friend. Son of a bitch.”

“You remember what she does for a living, right? You really think you could get away with this so easily?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he tries. Instead, I put away my gun. I get out my butterfly knife and start swinging it around on my fingers. “You really think you’re gonna scare me with that?”

“I could bury it in your thigh, and then see how you like it?”

“I don’t know where you’re gettin’ off blamin’ me for this. Riley was the one who broke up with me.”

I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Yeah, after she found out you were cheating on her.”

The arrogant asshole chuckles, like he’s just disappointed he got found out. The first punch I land on him makes him stop. The second drops him to the floor, tied to the chair and immoveable.

“Go ahead. Laugh at it again.”

He looks up to me, blood on his lips, grinning. “I don’t know what you expect from me. Want me to tell you I ain’t gonna do it again? Because I ain’t ever gettin’ back with that bi—”

I slam my fist into his face, then pull him back upright. I swing my knife close enough to his face to make him flinch.

“I dare you to finish that sentence.”

“Bitch,” he spits out. “You better check yourself, because if my mama finds out what you’ve been doin’ behind her back, you’re gonna be real sorry.”

I glance to see Mac’s returned. He doesn’t look surprised that there’s blood coming out of Billy’s mouth and a bruise is forming around his eye.

“Our little friend here just called Riley a bitch,” I say, gesturing with my knife. “And now he thinks he can set me off by tattling to his mother.”

Mac just starts to grin.

“She’s really gonna kill you,” he directs to Mac. “After all the times we’ve worked together, you gotta go this far?”

“You hurt Riley,” Mac says. That’s all he says. In the two hours it took for us to get here, it seems he had long enough to think about it.

“Retribution is sexy on you,” I say.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mac responds.

“Well, here’s the thing, Billy,” I say, punctuating his name. “Before I even left, your mama and I had a little chat. You wanna know what she had to say?”

And with that, the cockiness drains from his face.

“She told me she taught you better than that, and that as long as I keep you alive, to do what I had to do.”

“You’re lyin’.”

I lean back down to him so I can whisper. “No, Billy. Your mama doesn’t condone lying, remember? Or did you conveniently forget that life lesson?”

He lunges at me, trying to headbutt me, but I move fast enough to get my blade next to his neck. He stops mid-lunge.

“AJ,” Mac chides, but he doesn’t make a move to stop me. Just words. That’s it. I don’t know if he really wants me to be stopped.

“In Dante’s _Inferno_, the Second Circle of Hell was reserved for those overcome by lust,” I begin. “Sure. Sure, it’s only the second circle, after limbo, but I still don’t think that makes it okay. So, in Dante’s story, those condemned there drifted by the winds of a terrible, violent storm without rest. What’s the quote, um, ‘a howling darkness’. So, as far as I can tell, I would say nighttime near the Mojave could do that justice, don’t you think?”

“I’ll get out of here, and I’ll find you,” he tries. He doesn’t scare me. Instead, I punch him again. I punch him again, and then my next wind up is stopped by Mac.

“Enough, AJ.”

“Enough, AJ,” Billy mocks. He is getting bloody. I want to do more, so I try to wrench myself from Mac’s grip, but he still is stronger than me. Maybe in more ways than one.

“Let go of me.”

He peers at me with those blue eyes of his. It’s enough to just make me melt a little. Just a little.

“You’re not gonna kill him.”

“Then I’m gonna leave him here.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not going to stop you there, but you can’t kill him, AJ—”

“I know when to stop!” I snap, and Mac finally lets go of me. “Don’t you trust me? I still know when to stop. I’m not gonna kill him. I’m not that much of a monster.”

Mac recoils, but the sentiment is still there. There’s still a bit of trust that lingers in between us, slightly forgotten, still not returned to normal. And we both know it. It’s not something we can ignore so easily. But I try not to remind him he’s the one who left. It’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to me, and I don’t want to have this argument in front of Billy.

Instead, I pull my gun, wind back and knock him unconscious with a solid pistol whip. With a huff, I secure his bonds, then use some more of the rope we had found in the nearby abandoned gas station to wind around his chest and arms, and then secure the chair so it couldn’t be toppled.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” Mac says, slightly annoyed, slightly impressed, as I resist the urge to punch Billy once more. Instead, I cross the street at a jog, finding his car, which Mac had very easily hid behind the abandoned building.

“I wasn’t gonna kill him, you know.”

“I know.”

“I don’t appreciate you thinking you have to remind me.”

“Sometimes, you scare me. Sometimes, you go too far,” he says. He flinches, cringes, when I shoot out Billy’s back tires.

“What was that for?”

“If he can get out, he can’t leave,” I shrug. I lean inside, grab and smash his phone beneath my boots. Then, I lock the keys inside. I do everything I can except killing Billy and setting the buildings on fire. With that, with that bout of silence, I mount my Bonnie, eyeing Mac’s motorcycle for the first time on this trip. Even in the half moonlight, I can see the shades of blue on the old bike’s body. It’s perfect.

“You know if Matty finds out, we’re gonna be in trouble,” Mac says, holding onto his helmet tightly.

“Oh, I anticipate it.”

“She thinks you’re getting better,” he says into the darkness.

“I am getting better. I promise.”

“This vengeance run is a little too reminiscent of last year. She’s gonna think you’re slipping.”

“I’m not slipping. Riley deserved better. Besides, slipping would mean I would have killed him, and you know it.”

“Backpedaling, then.”

He sighs, looking up into the sky. The stars out here at this time of night—or morning, soon—shine bright under the moon. It’s almost cathartic. At least, I think it should be. When I look to Mac, his blond hair nearly shimmers in the light. It’s distracting. It makes the rage settle a bit deeper in my soul. It burns a little less.

“When you called Mama Colton, you called yourself my girlfriend.”

I didn’t even realize it. I was filled with so much anger, I just spoke. I don’t try to correct myself, either.

“Is that not what we’re doing?”

“It’s just the first time you’ve said it since…”

“Since you left,” I say shortly.

“Since I left. Since we got back together.”

“Well, is that a bad thing?”

Mac slips his own helmet on. I don’t know if he wants to look at me.

“I’m glad you said it.”

“Is it the truth?” I ask.

“If you want it to be,” Mac responds.

I slip my own helmet back on. It’s a quiet ride back to Hollywood Hills, but he’s right. There’s a cathartic nature to what we’ve done. And I can’t bring myself to feel sorry at all.

I doubt Billy will ever be strong enough to bring his own retribution.


	21. Palioxis: Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While AJ wasn’t fazed by the chaos that rained down after their attack on Billy Colton, her confidence wavers under the information about the code book. Decoded, it doesn’t give them much information, except for a title: the Architect. But that title is soon revealed as a name comes forward: Mason, after the death of one of Mac’s friends. The truth as to why he’s targeting Mac, though, is a whole new problem, and AJ feels her luck reversing in real time.

_[Classified]_

**Mid-March**

“So why am I just hearing about this now?”

I realize, very quickly, that both Mac and I have settled into an extreme form of parade rest. Apparently, tattling can go both ways, and Billy Colton spent no time at all contacting Matty about what we had done.

After he had made it back to civilization, that is. Several days later.

Mac and I don’t respond right away. In fact, we can’t look at each other. I’m fairly certain that if I look at him, I’m going to start laughing, and that would be the opposite of helpful.

I can’t look at him anyway. I can’t admit the fact that it felt way too good to enact some more revenge. But my dark machinations aside, Matty continues her rant which has now lasted approximately seventeen minutes, berating us for abusing our own personal power and attacking a civilian.

The only respite we receive is when a tech knocks on the door to the war room and gives Matty a quick, quiet report.

Thankfully, she brings up something on the screen, and for a moment, it seems like we’re off the hook. I look over the scans, the text, the information that she’s poring over, and I realize what it is.

“You’ve deciphered the codebook.”

“Thanks to you and Jack, yeah,” she says, almost absentmindedly. As if she did anything absentmindedly. “There are links to weapons sales between him and Murdoc, and Kovacs, and…” she drifts. “There’s a name I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, we can identify most of the code, but there are some names that we’re still not sure about. We’ve determined Corsair to be Murdoc, Blacksmith to be Kovacs, but there’s one that continually comes up that we’re unsure about—Architect.”

I squint, looking over the screen, and Mac knows better than to interfere. Something about this all seems familiar.

“I’m not sure if it will help…” I start. “Corsair is another word for pirate. The name Murdoc means ‘defender of the sea’. And Kovacs is a Hungarian name that translates essentially to ‘smith’. I wonder if whoever this Architect is, their name translates or means builder or… or some sort of craftsperson. It’s a broad stroke, but you could probably cross reference your crime databases or whatever with names that mean something related to building.”

Matty is almost… impressed, I think. She doesn’t continue chiding us. Instead, she starts texting on her tablet. Probably to the tech team.

“So, are we… dismissed?” Mac tries, stepping backwards towards the door.

“Get out of here,” Matty sighs, continuing her work. We both scramble out into the hallway. I start to giggle, held up from the nearly half an hour spent waiting for her to tire herself out.

“So, what do you want to do?” Mac asks, trying not stop me from looking back over my shoulder to see what Matty was doing. “We could go to the LA Philharmonic tonight? I know they’re doing _Rite of Spring.”_

We make it to the lobby, and I start walking backwards, eyeing him. “What did Bozer tell you?”

He tries to scramble for a lie, but he’s awful at it when his life doesn’t depend on it.

“He told you about _Turandot,_ didn’t he?”

“You know he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Instead, I link my arm with his as we head outside. It’s funny. We’ve nearly gotten into fist fights out here. We’ve been through too much here. But for once, even now, it’s starting to look up.

“Counter-suggestion,” I begin. “We get takeout, go back to my house, and get drunk in our pajamas before falling asleep at 8 p.m.?”

He sighs, smiling, laughing.

“I have more realistic expectations of our evenings, MacGyver,” I say, slipping on my helmet. “Now, whoever makes it to my house first gets to pick dinner.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

I run for my Bonnie, trying to push Mac out of the way in the process. For the first time in weeks, I feel something: hope.

But there’s always that overwhelming fear it’ll all come crashing down.

* * *

_Los Angeles, CA_

**Late March**

And crash it does, in the most unbelievably epic of ways.

I realize what I seemed like after Jill’s funeral as soon as we start leaving Charlie’s: Mac is on autopilot, barely considering what he’s saying or doing. He’s deep inside his own mind, plotting some sort of vengeance, I think.

Everything is starting to piece together: somewhere between Kuznetsov, and Murdoc, and Kovacs, and the cartels, and this mysterious hacker is our real, seriously dangerous enemy: Mason.

I’m wondering how many of our attacks, our shit shows, everything lines up with Mason. Something tells me Mac knows more than he’s told me, though, the way he fumed through Charlie’s funeral.

We head out, and I can tell by his breathing it’s not good.

“Mac. Mac, do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s my fault.”

“Mac, it’s not your fault,” I start, but he shakes his head, leaning on the hood of the maroon Jeep.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It is. Do you want to know why he killed Charlie? Mason’s son was a Marine on embassy duty overseas. He was tasked by my father to extract an intelligence asset. He ended up fighting a rebel group, to advance on their camp, but it was a distraction so we could get out. And he died.”

“When was this?”

He looks at me with a sidelong glance, and he knows exactly what I’m asking.

“We promised.”

And with that, it’s enough for him to break. We did make a promise, and he’s not willing to break it. It’s not a threat. It’s a gentle reminder.

“2017.”

I try to wrack my brain. A lot happened in 2017. But I don’t know of what times Mac was involved in a mission where he was close enough to an embassy and needed fast extraction against enemy forces—

“You said we,” I realize quickly. My heart jumps. “You said so we could get out.”

“Murdoc had backup,” he says. His heart breaks through his face. “They had a camp down the mountain, Dad made a judgment call—”

The panic comes for me quickly and hard, like a solid right hook from someone who knows what they’re doing. I remember. I remember what he’s talking about. It was Istanbul. The Altar of Zeus. I can hear myself, weak, dying:

_"Where did Murdoc go? Do you... do you have his location? He couldn't have gotten far. He could be still... still on the mountain. He could be regrouping. You need... you need to tell Matty. We need a team. We need a team to check the mountain. If he has a camp, we're... we're dead."_

I’m suddenly defensive and I can’t turn it off. “You told me before you disagreed with it. The only reason I’m alive is because of that call.”

“I know. I know, but no one had to die, AJ!”

The realization is so much worse as I think about it. James did that for me. James did that to save the both of us. I always wondered how that tac team even made it to us. Of course, we had more backup. “I almost died! I should have died! Your dad saved my life! Which is a lot more than I can say for him in the past.”

“It’s so complicated,” He says, groaning, leaning his head on his hands. “I hate this. I almost wish I didn’t try so hard to find him.”

“Would you really be content with not knowing?” I scoff. “Not you. You would never have lived without answering these questions. You’re too smart. Your brain would eat itself. Is this why James hasn’t been texting me lately?”

“There’s so much to unpack in that statement,” Mac grumbles. “I just need a little time, okay? I need a little time to sort all this out, and I don’t think I should have to deal with my dad right now on top of all of it.”

“What if we could take care of the issue?” I say, almost under my breath.

“What are you talking about?”

I look around the cemetery. We were some of the last to leave, so I know it’s safe to talk about it.

“Let me talk to Matty. Work with Riley, we can get Sam in on it. Pool our intelligence to try to track down where Mason is. I know it’s going to suck, but you need to be patient. We’ll find Mason. We—”

Whatever I was saying stops. I don’t even know where it goes.

“Mac, that’s it. The Architect.”

The realization settles on his face too. “Mason.”

“He was in that codebook the entire time.”

The overwhelming feeling that we’re six steps behind settles in again, and whatever hope I had before suddenly drifts away on the wind.

* * *

Bankhead, Alberta, Canada

**Late March**

In another life, I may have enjoyed this trek. I may have done this walk for leisure.

But instead, I’m hiking through a slight mountain range, outside of the national park guidelines of when I should be, trying to hunt down a rogue agent.

Our techs pushed through the codebook, while Riley tracked any name they could find. After combining forces with Sam and collecting enough information to find some actionable intel, I found myself tracking one of Mason’s associates through the Alberta wilderness.

I check my tracker. He lingered in a cabin just outside of Bankhead ghost town. Definitely illegal. Definitely off the grid. Which is both good and bad for him and I.

Whatever hope I had left before slipped away when Charlie was murdered. It was the same for Mac. I thought that maybe we had just a few more days of happiness before something came crashing down, but I’m starting to learn that line of thinking isn’t what works in our profession.

At any rate, I approach the cabin. In the dead of night, he doesn’t have any indication that anyone was living there. And besides, it’s not like I’m going to knock.

My confidence wavers at the sound of a shotgun cocking.

“Who the hell are you?”

I turn around, making myself look as scared as possible. It’s hard for me. Not much scares me anymore.

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe heavily. “I had gotten lost… do you… do you have a phone I could use?”

He eyes me. I try to give him my best innocent face, but I’m not sure it’s working on him.

But he lowers the gun. I step closer to him. He’s still holding the gun, though, and that’s inconvenient.

Not for long.

He hesitates, so I don’t. I push the gun down, away from me, and he shoots into the floorboards of the cabin porch. He can’t reload, so he tries to use it to bludgeon me with it. I duck, I punch, I smash his head against the porch fencing, and he drops.

I pull him into the cabin to tie him up. It takes him about four minutes to come back to consciousness. He tries to fight. It’s not worth it, but he doesn’t know that.

“Alright, listen up. Where’s Elliot Mason?”

He peers at me, almost out of boredom. I flip my butterfly knife over my fingers, wait for his facial expression to change. It doesn’t. I slam my blade up to the hilt into his thigh. He screams out in pain.

“Didn’t think I would, now did you? Elliot Mason. Location. I know he’s not far. Tell me where he is.”

At his silence, I twist my knife. He clenches his teeth, but he stays quiet.

“You know what’ll happen if I pull this out. You’ll bleed out in… well, I would say a few minutes, if you’re lucky. Guess what? I’ve been there. I’ve got a bar in my leg. Makes a helluva hard sell in airports. Now listen. You tell me where Elliot Mason is.”

“Is there going to be an either-or situation?” He says, cringing. I step around him. I grab his hair and pull his neck back. My tactical knife ends up placed delicately against his jugular.

“Whether you get out of this in one piece or not is your decision,” I say, tracing the blade across his neck. His skin pulses. I resist the urge to slice him. Maybe just a little.

“Mason. Where is he.”

He stays quiet.

“Is he really worth dying for?”

“You tell me.”

“You think he’ll get me?”

“He gets everyone in the end.”

I chuckle. It’s a morbid statement, sure, but I’m not sure I disagree with him. After what he did to Charlie, after what he nearly did to Bozer, I’m sure he’s coming for all of us.

“Then you have nothing left to lose,” I whisper in his ear. “Maybe I just need to find what motivates you.”

I hate myself for it, but I can feel myself slipping. I’m slipping backwards, back to that state of vengeance, the one I loved so much before.

Unfortunately, I’m realizing it’s the place I’m happiest. It’s the place I feel the most at home.

I twist the knife in his thigh once more. He screams out.

“I would be more than happy to slit your throat and leave you out for the wolves to consume, but that seems a bit messy and wasteful,” I continue. “Mason killed a friend of mine.” Too many friends of mine have died lately. I draw a breath to force it down, burning, into my stomach. “He’s going to have to face his crimes eventually, and I plan on raining hellfire down on him for it.”

He starts to laugh. I don’t know how he can, with two knives in vital areas of his body.

“I’ve heard about you.”

This is news to me, but I know he can’t see my face without risking more bodily harm, so I just let him ruminate on the thought.

“I’ve heard about you,” he repeats. “About someone making the rounds over the past year. Taking out the worst of the worst. Or the best of the best.”

“Depends on what side you’re on.” I plunge my knife deeper and he cries out. Blood is starting to get on my hand. “What are they calling me?”

“Parca. Nera Mietitrice. I’ve heard La Grande Faucheuse.”

Interesting. I know exactly where this all shook down from. Someone must have gotten away in Laos.

“And what have you been calling me?” I whisper in his ear.

“The Harbinger.”

“Ooooh, I like that. Has a nice ring to it. Now tell me where Elliot Mason is.”

“Burke, Idaho. the Coeur d’Alene Forest. Ain't worth dyin' for."

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I say. I draw my knife from his leg, and blood doesn’t rush out, but it starts moving. He starts to panic.

I take off his belt and he looks at me with concern as I wrap it around his leg. I tighten it, and the blood flow starts to lessen.

“Ain’t your time, friend,” I say, picking up my knives, wiping them on his already blood-soaked pants, and holstering them. “Not this time, anyway.”

I drop his knife on the floor, just barely out of reach of his injured foot.

“I find you again, you won’t be so lucky.”

I head out of the cabin and already hear him struggling to make it to the knife I left for him. I don’t know if he’ll make it. I don’t know if I really care. At any rate, I call up Matty.

“I’ve got Mason’s location,” I say. “He’s holing up the Coeur d’Alene National Forest.”

_“You’ve got anything more specific?”_ Matty asks. “_Kind of a large location, don’t you think?”_

“He said Burke.”

“_That’ll do it. Pickup in Calgary.”_

I end the call. The sour taste comes back to my mouth.


	22. Proioxis: Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With actionable intel leading them towards Burke, Idaho, the team heads there to attempt to bring in Elliott Mason. But the pursuit is cut short when they realize the entire ghost town has been set for traps, and each person is in danger of never coming home.

Burke, Idaho

**Late March**

“You seriously think he’s hiding in a ghost town in Idaho?”

_“Yes, Bozer, we have actionable intel that says he is,”_ Matty says. This is the second time in a year we’ve had a funeral. I don’t want there to be a third, as we land at the Shoshone County Airport.

“Is it open to the public?” I ask. “Are Dez and I going to be able to walk in there, totally strapped?”

_“We were initially unsure whether people were still living there, but intel states that the main area has been completely abandoned.” _

“But if we have the element of surprise, we need to take it,” Dez says. “Send AJ and I in. We can take care of him.”

“No,” Mac immediately says. “I’m not letting them go in alone. We have strength in numbers. I hate to admit it, but the more we have, the better.”

“Between the two of us, we can handle protecting the team,” I say to Matty. She doesn’t even think about the request.

_“Understand that every time I send you all out together, someone comes back severely wounded,”_ she says, almost under her breath, almost a prayer. _“Please don’t do this again. You all need to come back in one piece, or you’re fired.”_

I immediately head for the weapons locker. I need to get out as many weapons as we can carry. I’m not fucking it up this time.

“You still using the AWM?” Dez asks. “I know Phoenix is stuck on the Blaser R93.”

“Nah, I upgraded to the Valkyrie. Easy to tear down. Ambidextrous.”

“Still with Colt?”

“You know it,” I say. “What are you grabbing?”

“You’re better at range, so I’ve got my P30.”

“I know you’re not big on guns, but—”

“Oh, no. I’m grabbing a SCAR. I’m not taking any chances on this guy. Hey, someone wants to talk to you.”

I turn around and see Mac, looking out of place as he peers over the weapons wall in the Phoenix jet. Still, I turn back to Dez. “Hey, take the 7.62 version from the armory. It’s a custom job for one of our tac guys, but he’ll understand why you need it. It’s got better range.”

“Roger that.”

Dez disappears. Mac finally stops me.

“Before we go, I’ve been meaning to give you this,” he says, taking my hand and placing something inside. It’s my necklace—both my Saint Jeanne d’Arc medal and the evil eye charm.

“Where did you get this?”

“The other night when we were at your house,” he confesses. “I saw you weren’t… you weren’t wearing your saint anymore, and I just thought…”

Without another word, I slip it on and latch it, pushing it underneath my Henley. He seems to take that as enough acceptance. We had done enough damage to each other. We didn’t need to try to put it into words.

“I didn’t want you without it. Not going into this. You’ve had enough bad luck lately, and I—”

I cut him off, rising up on my tiptoes and giving him a kiss.

“I’m going to get as much weaponry as I can physically carry, and then I’ll meet you on the ground.”

He starts to leave, but I can’t let it go.

“Hey, Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

* * *

We’re well into night by the time we make it to the outskirts of the ghost town. I don’t know the history of the area, and frankly, I don’t care. I spread out a map that Riley had printed off in the back of the SUV, and I start pouring over it.

“There’s not a lot of technology here,” I say. “That could work to our advantage.”

“What, no elevators to rig to collapse?” Mac says. He’s been angry this entire mission. I don’t blame him at all, I know what he wants to do, but I know what we have to do, and those are two different things.

I glance at him, I make eye contact, and I force him to look at me until he breaks. He’s not going on a vengeance run. It’s not his style.

“So, what’s the plan?” Dez says. “I assume we’re not just running in, following Boy Wonder and making it up as we go.”

I look over the map we have in front of us and the surveillance photos of the ghost town. It’s an interesting set up, with massive buildings, possibly a lot of hiding places. But there’s a location at the top of the main building, high above everyone else, and that’s where I want to be.

“We need to split up,” I finally say. I realize they’re all waiting for me to speak, like I’m some sort of field general.

“Isn’t that how we die?” Bozer offers.

“It’s not a horror movie,” I say. “At least, it’s not going to be. The only way we can do this is if we’re tactical. Bozer, Riley, you take the west, Dez, Mac, you take the east. Riley, I want you on secondary overwatch. Stick in the car, just in case we need a clean getaway, but I saw that drone you took from the armory. Use that as our eye in the sky.”

Riley just nods. She looks a little more scared than usual.

“Alright, any questions?”

There’s nothing, nothing but the silence of the forest around us and the overwhelming fear he’s going to be waiting. But we all know where he is, and how dangerous he’s going to be.

“Ten minutes,” I say. “Gather everything you need. Make sure you’re tactically ready.”

And with that, we strap on our gear. Some of us more than others, but like hell are we going into this without vests.

Mac, though, he’s finished before I barely even begin. Dez notices, and nods to Riley and Bozer, who go to the other side of the SUV, leaving us alone.

“I want you to be extremely careful,” he begins. “I know you can handle yourself. I know we’ve had this talk before, we just have too many moving parts and not enough people for this mission, and…”

I lace up my tac boots. “I know, Mac. You’re afraid he knows too much about Istanbul, and if he does, he’ll come after me, too.”

I strap on my thigh holsters, with Mac just… looking on. I desperately wish he would carry a gun, but I know that’s never going to happen.

“I know better than you in this respect,” I say, and he actually chuckles, as I put my own vest on. Between holsters and magazine pockets and grenades and my tactical knife, I feel like I’m headed into a red zone.

What’s the difference?

“You’re terrifying,” Mac says as I pull on my backpack containing my Valkyrie and some other supplies. He pulls me into a kiss, and he seems to have ulterior motives—I feel his fingers linger against the chain around my neck. He had to check, I realize, if I was wearing it. He was that scared about this Mason.

It only gives me a reason to fight harder.

When we all come together, I fall into my usual role. “We drive into the front of the town,” I say, pointing to the map. “Once we’re there, Riley, Bozer, post up. Mac and Dez, head on into the town, but stay low and liquid. I will head up this hill and take this building here. If you see him, call him out. If he has weapons, we’re going to engage. Apprehension or annihilation. Do not take a shot on him unless he comes at you, alright? Let me take him out from overwatch position. You ready?”

The only person that looks truly ready is Dez, who grasps the top of her bulletproof vest and gives me a shrug. Bozer, Riley, and Mac all have varying looks of terror.

“We’ve all been trained to do this,” I say. “Regardless of how this shakes down, we’ve got this, and we’re a team. We’ve faced Murdoc, and—and Kovacs, and now this Mason isn’t going to stop us. I’ll burn this whole town down if I have to—”

“It’s a historic landmark, I wouldn’t do that,” Mac interjects.

“I will burn part of this town down if I have to.”

“A decent compromise,” Dez counters.

“How about we don’t burn down any of the town?”

“Maybe just a little?” I ask Mac, and it’s enough to make Bozer and Riley crack a smile. “Alright, team. Let’s go.”

* * *

The only advantage—and disadvantage—to this is the glaring full moon as we arrive. Sure, it gives us a ton of ambient light to play with, but it’s also going to help Mason if he sees us coming.

We’re silent on the approach. As soon as Riley parks the car out of sight, we all break apart and head for our own parts of the mission.

I hike up the side of the massive hill containing the highest point—in some sort of decaying building, where half of the back of it has disintegrated to the point where I can enter in without much trouble. The only bad part is it could fall apart without much trouble, either.

I pull my Colt as soon as I breach the building. It was hard enough to get up here, I don’t think he’s going to be hiding out in this high ground. He’ll be somewhere low, somewhere easy to get out of, if he’s alone and thinks he’s being watched.

There’s four windows at the end of the line, and peer out the left middle one. It’s a perfect place: full visibility in the 180 degrees of the town.

I immediately pull over some debris to make a makeshift prop, and before long, I’m putting together my rifle to hopefully end this shit show quickly.

In fact, everything stops for a while. I don’t know where Mac and Dez have set up, and no one has spoken on the comms for a long time before I see movement in one of the buildings below.

“Dez, location?”

_“Eastern buildings of the complex. No sign of movement.”_

“I see something on the south, closer to the west.”

“_It’s not us,”_ Dez confirms.

“Riles, B, you see anything?”

_“Not yet,”_ he murmurs. _“Could be nothing.”_

“Could be Mason,” I say, centering my sights on the location. It could be my eyes, though. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat in a nest like this. A long time.

There’s a loud, heavy caliber gunshot, and I instinctively duck.

“The fuck was that?” I say. “Sound off!”

_“Mac.”_

“_Dez.”_

Silence.

“Give me the binoculars,” I snap. I look out over in B and Riley’s direction, and I realize I can’t see the drone hovering anymore. It’s gone. I think he’s shot it out of the sky.

“Riles? Riley? Boze?”

_“Guys—static—can’t—”_

“Dez, Bozer and Riley’s out of communication,” I say, trying not to panic. “Get to their loc as fast as you can.”

I just hear panting on the comms, like she’s running.

And then the car blows up.

It’s all I can do to not run down there. I know they got out, I know they had to have gotten out, but that explosion could have been heard and seen from the next town. I don’t know if we will attract any visitors, but I hope to God the fact that the now burning vehicle blocks the west egress may help keep people away.

“_They’re fine,_” Mac says. “_I repeat, Riley and Bozer are fine.”_

I take a heavy breath. That’s the first close call, and I don’t think we’re going to have mercy.

“Get up to the main building,” I say. “We need to consider our next options—”

_“No,” _Mac says. “_No, that’s what he wants. All of us together. He’s going to have this entire place trapped. That’s his M.O. This place is rigged to blow, whether we like it or not.”_

“_Well, he just made it that much more interesting,”_ Dez harrumphs.

“He knows we’re here,” I confirm. “So strap in for a gunfight. The only way we’re going to be able to do this is if we clear the place building to building. You might have to set off traps. This might end in fire and bloodshed, folks. This is guerrilla warfare, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”


	23. Ultio: Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With each member of the team dropping like flies, AJ and Mac know they have to get some sort of edge. AJ, in her usual way, decides to potentially sacrifice herself to the vengeance she had tried to enact all year. Whether it would work or not is up to fate herself.

Dawn starts to break and we’re pinned down, with no way out, not until we find or kill Mason.

I feel like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or for someone to get the drop on us.

The first one to go, unfortunately, is Dez.

There’s a cacophonous crash off to my right, and I’m on the binoculars immediately to see what has happened. Instead, we get a rapid-fire conversation on our comms—

“_The FUCK—”_

_“Desi! Don’t move—”_

_“I can’t move, God dammit!”_

_“She’s caught in the metal, Riley, can you reach her?”_

_“Not without falling!”_

The discord continues, and I can’t do anything about it except hope that he won’t take the moment of chaos to his advantage. I stay on sights, peering through, looking for movement.

“_We need to set up a triage unit.”_

“Can you make it up here?”

_“I don’t know if she can walk,” _Mac says. “_He set up a spike pit and she fell through. There was no way to see it, Harps.”_

“We’re not giving up. Get her stable. Want me to come down and help her out?”

_“No!”_ Dez calls. _“I’ve done more with worse!—God dammit!—I’m on my way, AJ!”_

“Be careful!”

“_What do you think I’m doing?”_

After a few minutes, I hear struggling and crashing, and I know it can only be Dez. I don’t think Mason would risk coming up here, other than to directly take me out. When I find her, there’s still blood running from a couple of wounds on her legs; her right looks exceedingly worse than her left. Once I get her into the building, I run to get my first aid kit. When I get back, Dez turns off her comms, so I do, too.

“He’s gonna take each one of us out,” she says, letting me dress the wounds. She clenches her teeth, trying not to yell any more than she already has. “He’s gonna eliminate each of us, and then come for Mac. You know that.”

“I know that, but I don’t know what else we can do,” I admit. “He’s got the drop on us, sure, but we’ve got to try to get him, or at least slow him down.”

“We’ve got to do it before he catches up,” she says. I give her my half drank water bottle. She glances at it before taking a drink. “You really are prepared, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t my first rodeo,” I say. “The only difference is, this time, I have backup.”

“Or liabilities,” Dez says. “This is on us. We can’t just firebomb this whole place and expect to keep it quiet. This isn’t Fallujah.”

“It’s not LA either,” I counter. “We may not have support, but neither does he. It’s a ghost town. We have to be able to get the drop on him at some point.”

“We’ve got to flush him out,” Dez says. “I don’t know if this plan is going to keep working. He keeps moving. We need to get him to stop moving, to get confident, and step out into the open.”

Something starts to form in my mind, and she seems to catch on.

“You have a plan, and we’re not gonna like it.”

“I have a plan, and I’m not gonna like it,” I say, turning back on my comms. As soon as I do, I hear the same cross talk I heard not long ago. “Wait, what the hell happened?”

There’s a noise near the broken entrance where I had just dragged Dez into the building, and we both level our weapons to it. Instead, though, it’s the image of Bozer getting carried, arms over shoulders, by Riley and Mac.

“What the fuck!?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. “Jesus! B! What happened?”

“Broken staircase,” Riley mutters, setting him down next to Dez. “Where the hell were you?”

“We were calling for you on comms,” Mac says, frustrated. He starts to pace. “We need to get out of here. I’m calling Matty for exfil.”

“No, no, not yet!” I say, standing up. Riley starts triage on Bozer—it looks like his leg is broken. Not badly, not a compound fracture, but it’s enough for Mac to intercede with some broken pieces of wood to splint it.

“I need a second,” I mutter. “Give me a second. Let me think. Let me think, okay?”

“You said you had an idea,” Dez says. Her breathing is labored. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to be in commission. “You said you had an idea, but you didn’t like it.”

“No, I didn’t,” I mutter. “Goddammit, this is going to Chelsea once again—”

“What does that mean?” Dez mutters.

“I don’t know. I still don’t know,” Mac whispers back.

“Wait, you don’t know what that means?” I stop, glancing to the wounded group. All of them shake their heads. “I’ve been using that for years, and you don’t know what it means. It means we’re all fucked. It’s in the shit. Gone awry.”

“Makes so much more sense,” Bozer grunts, and I shake the distraction from my thoughts.

“What’s this whole thing about? His survival. He needs to make it through, or he needs to kill Mac. Those are the options. He wants revenge. What does he know about the shit show he’s trying to avenge? Does he know I’m involved? If he does, good. If he doesn’t, we tell him.”

“What good would that do—” Bozer tries to interrupt, but Mac waves him down.

“Sure, James made the order, but the exfil was for me, not Mac. I try to distract him with that, maybe get caught by him, but only when we get a chance. That gives Mac enough time to set a trap for him. But we’re gonna have to push him towards a place we want him to go. Where would be the best place for a showdown? All these buildings don’t have enough cover. We need a place to make a final stand.”

“The main street,” Riley pipes up.

I hold my breath. She’s right, but I hate it.

“It’s too dangerous,” Mac says, but I shake my head. “It’s too open.”

“No, no. We can do this. Bozer, Dez, do you think you could handle becoming overwatch?”

Dez struggles to her feet without help, and then Riley helps her over to my nest. I know that if he catches them here, they’ll be out of luck, but that’s why he’s not going to catch them here.

“Riley, you’re with me. You’ve got your gun?”

She pulls it from her ankle holster and cocks it. I look to Mac and shrug.

“Hey, you don’t carry, so they do now.”

“When did that happen?”

“About a year and a half ago,” I scoff. “C’mon, MacGyver. Keep up.” He smirks, just barely at me, before I issue my last order: “Mac, I need you to go down in those buildings and set up some sort of trap. I don’t care what. Just do something. Do your magic. We’re gonna get this done.”

He nods once. We all have our jobs.

The only bad part?

This was the bad plan. And I was the bait.

* * *

“Riley, get into position across the street,” I say, pushing forward and pointing to where she needed to hide. I, on the other hand, start walking down the center of the street. Once I get there, I fire one shot into the air.

Ten more, plus three more mags.

“Ready?” I whisper into comms.

“_All clear,”_ Dez says. I can tell she’s in pain. It’s not good. We’ve got to hurry, and the sun is coming up.

“_I hope you know what you’re doing,”_ Mac says, but he sounds hard at work.

I fire again.

“Mason!” I cry out. “C’mon, Mason, I know you’re out there! We haven’t met. I’m AJ Harper. I’m a co-worker of Angus, but I’m sure you knew that, after your little hack. You should also know I’m pretty close to James MacGyver. And I can attest to that by what happened in 2017. I heard your son was on embassy duty overseas. Greece, was it?” I’m throwing caution into the wind, but it’s the closest embassy.

“_AJ, don’t,”_ Mac tries, but I continue.

“Your son was sent to extract an intelligence asset, am I wrong? And he ended up fighting a rebel group so the asset could escape. A distraction. And your son died. Now let me tell you a story. Mac? Yeah, he was one of the intelligence assets. But I was there too. In fact, I was knocking on heaven’s door, as it were. I somehow survived that because of a fast extraction. So… your little vengeance run? It should include me.”

The gunfire opens up. I run for the opposite side of the street from Riles, but it follows me, rapid, fast, and loud. Definitely an AK47, but I shouldn’t be musing on that right now, I should be running.

In fact, it’s a little bit exhilarating. I haven’t been shot at like that in a while.

“You got a loc?”

“_I see movement to your two o’ clock,”_ Dez says.

I peek around the corner. I get another volley of 7.62s on my location, and I let out a loud laugh. A theatrical laugh. The darkness slips out of me, and I’m almost enjoying it.

I’m scaring myself.

“You pissed, Mason? Why don’t you come out and play? Take me out? Sounds like something you would absolutely love to do. I mean, that’s what this all is about, isn’t it?”

He unleashes again. It’s all I can do to find cover. I return fire, unleashing the rest of my clip in his direction. The gunfire stops for a second. I change my mag.

“How is everyone?”

_“Clear,” _Dez says.

“_As good as it’s gonna get,”_ Riley mutters. “_I don’t like this.”_

“You sound like Jack,” I giggle. I hear Mac’s muttering to himself, like he’s doing math, so I don’t ask again for an answer from him.

“I’m pushing forward,” I say. God, I hate being this close to the action. I would so much rather be at the top, where Dez is, but this is my bed and I’m going to lie in it. This is the best it’s going to get. “Give me some cover fire, Riles.”

“_Copy.”_

Her aim isn’t the best, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s enough to stop his gunfire for enough time to me to get to a forward location, closer to where I think Mac is. Across the street, hidden underneath the main building. We’re good. We’re gonna be good. I start my taunting again.

“Your silence only makes me think you don’t want to play, and that makes me so sad. Don’t you want to kill the reason your son is dead? Hmm? Because it’s not MacGyver you want, it’s me!”

I hit the deck as best as possible. He unloads another volley in my direction, and this time, I fire back.

“_Watch out!” _Dez calls. _“Your position is open; he can get a shot on you!”_

There’s a loud cry from Riley’s position.

“Riles? Riles—”

_“I’ve been hit,” _she struggles to say. _“Shoulder. Above my vest. God, that hurts. You’ve been shot eleven times? That’s the worst, AJ!”_

“Put pressure on it, breathe, and get to cover,” I order. For once, the gunfire in my head is silent. “He’s culling the group. I’m the last one left. Mac, you ready?”

_“Give me five minutes. I’ve got some TNT. Not sure it’s going to work, but it’s gonna pack a helluva punch.”_

“I can do that.” With that, I vault my cover, strapping my gun back in my holster and holding up my hands in surrender.

“_AJ? What the hell are you doing—”_ Mac begins.

“Getting you some time, the hell you think I’m gonna do?”

“_It’s too dangerous—”_

“Babe, this is always too dangerous,” I mutter, then switch to my theatrical announcer voice. “Mason! I know you’d rather have fun with me face to face. This is your chance. Time to let me look at you in the face! C’mon, wouldn’t you have so much more fun with me down here?”

I keep my hands up, and start forward, slowly, through the buildings. Forward towards Mac’s location. From the building ahead of me, I finally see Elliot Mason: older, angry, strapped to the nines. He looks like I do, clutching an AK47 instead of a sniper rifle.

“Look at that. Finally got you out in the open. Nice to meet you,” I say, holding up my hands still. “I just want to talk.”

“You think you can take the blame for what James MacGyver has done?”

“I don’t think it’s his fault, and I don’t think it’s ours, either. Sometimes that’s the way of the world. You should know that.”

With the finesse of a man who has done it so many times before, he reloads his AK. “Give me one reason to not shoot you.”

“I’m unarmed. Well, I at least don’t have a gun in my hand. You’ve booby trapped this entire ghost town. and you know you’ve taken out all of us.”

“All but one.”

“Oh, did you lose count?”

He squints at me. He doesn’t quite believe me, and that’s fine.

“Dez fell in your pit trap, Bozer broke his leg, and you shot Riley and Mac in your wild spray just now.”

“I didn’t get MacGyver.”

“You wanna attest to that?” I say, trying to sound more and more panicked. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how I handle shit. Besides, it’s true. I’m getting a little more and more panicked. I don’t like this face to face bullshit, but here we are. “I’m it. I’m left. I want some sort of way to get them out of here. If that means you taking me, so be it.”

This is the one that pisses him off. “Oh, so you think you’re going to be a sacrifice? You think you’re going to volunteer for this? My son didn’t have a choice.”

I feel the anger welling in my throat. I can’t stand this guy. He’s exactly the kind of man I’ve grown to hate. But there’s only one way to try to stop this guy, and I know it’s probably going to end in bloodshed.

I try to focus. The panic starts to set in. I don’t know why. I feel like I’m getting closed in, the buildings in my peripherals inching closer, like I’m in a tunnel. Focus. Focus, AJ.

“You want my resume? Fine. Here it is. I graduated high school and two days later, I was at Basic. It took me about six months before I was moved to 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta, G Squadron. I spent almost seven years in Delta. I was all around the world. The Sandbox. South America. Russia. After that, I joined DXS. I’m sure you know what that is, you’re a smart cookie. I’ve spent ten years with DXS and Phoenix Foundation. Now, I’m not telling you all this information to brag. I’m trying to make a point here. Now, you said—you told me your son didn’t have a choice. Yes, he did. He had a choice. He had a choice, and he chose to serve our country. That’s him volunteering. That’s him making a choice. We all made that choice. We all knew what we were getting into, and I’m sure your son would think that protecting another person is worth something.”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about my son.”

“I know he wouldn’t want you to kill soldiers in cold blood.”

He levels his AK at me. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about my son.”

“Then fine. You want to do this? Then we do this.” I put down my arms and step towards him. He steps backwards, and eventually, I know he’s in the blast zone. “We’re in a western mining town. Old school duel. Let’s go.”

_“AJ, no,” _Mac says. _“He will kill you if you do this.”_

He very gently pulls from his hip holster a black and silver number, showing me the lovely .50 cal etching on the side of his very powerful Desert Eagle.

_“Your vest is not rated for that,” _Mac continues, more and more frantic. “_Dez, take the shot!”_

“_AJ’s too close!”_ Dez snaps. “_I’m not confident with this gun, and I’m not taking the shot with her that close to the target!”_

“You sure you wanna do that?”

I pull out my own Colt, make a show out of getting rid of the half empty mag, and slamming in a full one. “Nice gun. Sure would like it in my arsenal.”

“I can find you a nice dealer.”

“No, I think I’ll take that one.”

“There’s no way you’re walking away from this one, Harper.”

“I could say the same to you.” I draw a line on the ground and step behind it, readying my gun.

“I thought we were doing ten paces, quick draw.”

“Oh, no,” I say. “This is an old school duel, I said. Line in the sand, one shot each, and I demand satisfaction.”

He laughs once, taking several steps back. Not again. I know my vest has a high rating. It could go through. It might not. I’m confident, but God, it’s going to hurt, because I know he’s got deadly accuracy.

_“AJ, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”_

“You know I do,” I say, not taking my eyes off Mason. His head tilts a little, and I think he realizes I’m on an earpiece.

_“That bomb could hurt you, too. You’re standing too close, AJ. Please. Don’t… don’t do this.”_

“C’mon. It’ll be fun. Just another story for the firepit, right?”

“_We’re locked in,”_ Dez says, although she sounds tired. She sounds like she’s fading. _“Detonate the bomb as soon as they’re both down.”_

“_AJ, you don’t have to take another bullet for this,”_ Mac tries again. His voice quavers.

“Riles, B, you know I love you. Dez, you still owe me for Ibiza. Mac…”

I can’t help it. My throat chokes up a little. I’ve got a vest, though, and so does he, so any damage he does, it shouldn’t kill me. That bomb he’s got rigged up, that little distraction, though? That one could, and Mac would never forgive himself.

Still, the words slip out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“I trust you,” I whisper.

The first shot goes off, and it hits me center mass. I get off my own shot. Right through his shoulder. His second shot nails me on my side, slipping right underneath my vest. Asshole doesn’t go with the rules of engagement, so I shoot. I nearly unload my clip.

And then the bomb blows.


	24. Valkyrie: Chooser of the Slain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s cheated death one too many times. It’s time Death comes for her, and Death comes in a variety of ways— this time, it will be slow, agonizing, and psychological. These scars aren’t on her body, and they last forever.

_Kandahar / Helmand Province, Afghanistan_

**September 2005**

We bounce through the rough terrain, still on edge from the last altercation in Kandahar. We should be used to it by now, myself included, but that kind of firefight isn’t something even Delta could prepare you for.

I look down at my hand. It’s shaking. It’s not good for a sniper to have a shaking hand.

“Hey, Fletch,” Ryan calls out over the bumping and groaning and the loud music coming from the speakers of Walker’s Humvee. I immediately close my fist to the shaking before turning to Ryan.

“What’s up?”

“I got you something,” he says, holding up a flash drive. He hands it to me, and I look over it, but in typical Ryan fashion, he has to explain. “I had a friend of mine back home record the Red Sox games. Video and audio files for you. I thought you’d like to catch up.”

I look down at the flash drive, then back to Ryan. “How’d you know it was my birthday?”

He shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“This is the best thing you could have ever gotten me,” I admit, slipping it into my chest pocket. “For real, Ryan. You’ve got no idea.”

“I do have an idea. I know how mad you are when someone spoils a game for you, or you don’t get to see it.”

“It’s been a year since I’ve been back,” I say, adjusting in my seat. “Next time I’m home, I’m headed straight there.”

“What if it’s not baseball season?”

“It’s always baseball season in Boston,” I correct emphatically. Besides, he knows I’d just try to break in or something. It doesn’t matter. It’ll always be home to me.

Ryan just gives a warm smile. For a second, I think I see something else there, but it slips away as the music fades. Jack changes the song playing through the Humvee speakers and I groan.

“Seriously? He’s gonna get us found. This is only going to end wicked bad.”

“You can be the one to tell him that,” Caleb says, barely looking back at me from his place behind the wheel.

“Give me the Goddamn radio,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing it. “Hey, Maestro, you wanna cool it? I know you have a concert to perform but I’m afraid blasting AC/DC to the nearest two klicks isn’t the most effective way to reconnoiter. Over.”

There’s a touch of static, and then speaking. _“What’s that? Is that a bit of noise from the Glum-vee? This is your Fun-vee speaking. We are successfully antagonizing our enemy over here. What are you doing? Complainin’? This is _freedom_, baby! Over!”_

I roll my eyes, and Sid just harrumphs. Of course, he’s going to be like that. That’s just Jack.

“Can’t you run him over or something?” I say to Caleb. He chuckles, and the next thing we see is Jack, peeking out of the top of his Humvee, holding the loudspeaker.

“Oh, good Lord, I hope you all have your wills written,” I mumble, sitting back into my seat and grasping my M24 like it’s the only thing going to save me from Jack’s incessant singing. He’s going to have to cut it out soon, because we’re going to make it to Jarnayl Kala and if he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, the locals aren’t going to be happy at all.

“What we’re dealing with here is a complete lack of respect for the law!” Jack calls out over the intro of his next performance.

I grab for the radio again. “Can one of you control him? _Smokey and the Bandit _quotes are probably not applicable.”

_“This is your Fun-vee. I’m sorry, Private Harper, I can’t hear you over the sound of your inability to enjoy the hours of entertainment the U.S. Army has given us with Staff Sergeant Dalton at the helm,” _Cerveza calls out.

“We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow!”

I peer out the side window, and I know this is not a good idea. Not in Helmand. Not leaving Kandahar. But the rest of the team doesn’t seem as worried. I don’t want to come off as someone with the inability to act—they know what happened in Porto Alegre—but they have to be at least a little concerned. I can’t believe they wouldn’t be.

I can see out of the front window, around Jack’s Fun-vee, the approach to Jarnayl Kala. Still, in the fading light, I can feel the anxiety building.

The shaking in my hand is back. This time, it’s instinct.

This time, I don’t ask for the radio. I just take it. “Jack needs to turn off the music. Now.”

It must be the tone of my voice, because it stops immediately. Grabbing my M24, I get out of the Humvee, eyeing the area. Something’s not right.

“Fletch, you good?” Caleb calls out after a moment. I’m not done looking.

Without Jack singing, without that loud noise telling everyone where we are, I feel like I can hear everything and nothing all at the same time.

“We need to get into the village. Friendlies?”

Jack just nods. “Should be. What are you thinkin’?”

“Ambush, maybe.”

“What, like Teg… Tegoose—”

“Tegucigalpa?” I finish. “No, more like Quetzaltenango.”

“I don’t know how you can say those words.”

“They’re Spanish. I thought you knew Spanish,” I say, but I shake it from my head. “Listen. We’re wastin’ time. We need to haul ass to that village and hole up for a little while.”

“This is supposed to be a safe strip of road—”

“It’s not,” I counter. “This is not a safe strip of road.”

“I love you, Thea, you know I do, but I can’t scrub this mission based on your instinct.”

“I’m not suggestin’ we scrub. I’m suggestin’ we move faster, or… or get into the village and hole up for a while. An hour. Tops.”

Jack peers at me cautiously. In any other situation, a Delta Force operator would probably look at the nineteen-year-old girl assigned to their unit with disdain, or disbelief, or some other dis-word. Instead, Jack just nods, makes a hand signal to the Humvees. We continue into the village, this time, at a much faster pace.

I look behind us as we slip into the limits, the houses. Jack covers me as we start following the Humvees back into a defensive position.

We’re met with little more than disinterest. Some of the women there look more than concerned as we head through, but with this being a fairly common thoroughfare, we’re not the first soldiers they’ve seen. I know we won’t be the last.

Still, the silence bothers me. I feel like I can hear everything, see everything, except the things I need to see.

I look around us. The farmland. The small shack-like houses. The burning pain like I’m being punched. I immediately hit the deck. The now familiar sound of an RPG exploding goes off too close.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sound of buzzing. All I hear is the steady tone of tinnitus, the now-familiar feeling of a throbbing head wound, thrown back from the blast.

The sound doesn’t come back right away. In fact, I lay there, dazed, trying to figure out where I am. Where are we? South America? Iraq? Idaho? Afghanistan? Yeah, Afghanistan. That’s the last place I remember. Remember? Why can’t I remember. I reach up to touch my head, and there’s blood when I pull away. The air is hot, the air burns when it touches my throat.

Inhale. Exhale. Focus.

I start looking for the boys. They couldn’t have gotten far. I hope to God they made it out of the Humvees. I don’t even know where the rockets made impact.

“Walk! Thorpe!” I cry out, but I have to duck behind the nearest house.

Another crash of gunfire, this time in my direction.

You’ve suffered worse. You know what you’re doing.

Dammit, you’re barely nineteen years old.

I control my breathing. The smart thing to do would be to find the rest of my unit. Reconvene, figure out what to do.

I decide, instead, to aim my M24 into the farmland around the village. I can see muzzle flashes. When I return fire, the recoil makes my shoulder throb. But the gunfire slows for a moment. We’re making a dent.

I take the brief reprieve and book it towards their last. I hear, through the ringing in my ears, someone screaming my name. I slide into cover next to Worthy.

“Nice of you to join us!”

“I got separated!” I say, more out of breath than I had hoped for. “Hey, at least I made an effort to reconnoiter!”

“You can’t blame this on Dalton,” he says. “Let’s get outta this before we start slingin’ blame.”

“Where’s everyone?” I call out, and I start doing a head count. Jack’s found his way into the house of one of the villagers, probably not to their liking, but he’s taking potshots out of a second story window and doing good work. Worthy’s here, Sid’s covering Fitzy as he puts together some sort of explosion, I think; Ryan pops out behind the wall past Worthy and Deacon—

“Where’s Cerveza?!” I start, but Worthy is busy. I get up and cross over to the other house we’re using as cover and check down the next street.

Cerveza is huddled behind the Humvee, holding a hand to his thigh.

Fuck.

There’s no question. I’m in the street before I can even think about it. I’m dodging more bullets than I would like, but I crouch down next to Cerveza.

“Hey, man, what’s shakin’?” I say, checking his leg. Somewhere in the middle of all this, he had gotten a nasty hit to his leg. Shrapnel or a bullet, I don’t know. “It’s wicked bad out here, yeah? Wanna get to somewhere safer?”

“That would be ideal,” he tries, and I know this isn’t going to be easy. I pull his arm around my shoulders. I struggle to pull him up, his weight forcing me down into the sand, the sweat dripping down my face and making my hands slick. But I get him to his feet.

“You think you can walk?” I ask, but we’re already moving.

I don’t know how. I’m dodging bullets. I don’t even care. I’ve run from police in Charlestown scarier than these assholes.

It feels like forever. It feels like time slows.

I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know if I could ever truly relive it.

Not like now.

I hear my heartbeat in my ears, and feel my heavy footfalls until I can make my way back to our position behind the wall. Once I get there, it feels like time starts again.

I lean against the wall. I finally realize what I had done. It’s still not enough.

Deacon struggles to help out Cerveza. I survey the area. We never even got these villagers out. I don’t know if anyone else is hurt. I never even thought to check.

God, I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I lean against the wall for a second, and it feels like I lose moments.

I hear the screaming.

“There’s a kid!” Cries out Fitzy. The gunfire stops on our end. We can’t risk firing around the crying child.

I take a look out of our cover. She’s got to be four or so. I hear her mother screaming, but the sound is dull and I think I’ve heard it too much.

I look over to Worthy and Sid and Deacon. I should make my way back over to them, but my eyes dart to the child, the crying child, the screaming mother.

“Harper, don’t!” Worthy cries out.

Do I have enough luck on my side still? I had used a hell of a lot to get to Cerveza already. I don’t know if I could make it over there without getting shot. Or worse.

I pull my sidearm and take a second to check it over.

I hadn’t even used it yet. It’s a Colt 1911. I ready it and make sure I have enough breath to do this. I have about half of my usual breath, but twice as much adrenaline. I almost like the feeling.

I don’t even know if I want to pray. I don’t have anyone to say goodbye to. Dad already knows what I would have to say to him.

I’m wasting time. This is stupid.

I breach my hiding spot and make a break for the child, laying down a cover fire that is clearly not going to hit anything, but at least they’ll think twice about aiming at me. As soon as I grab her, I jump. I nearly crash into the mother’s doorway, grasping the kid tightly. She looks horrified. She looks exhausted. I let the child go and she runs into her mother’s arms.

The gunfire is starting to wane. I don’t know how many we have left. I’m starting to wane. God, this is exhausting. My breath starts to burn.

But in the fading sunlight, through the doorway, I see Jack. Jack, Sid, and Worthy are making a move. Jack gives me a hand signal: we’re moving forward. Sid tosses me my sniper rifle. I aim from the doorway. Not my favorite spot, but I can get a good enough bead on anyone that might pop up to shoot at the team.

And shoot I do. I take out three before I hear the cries of men dying upon the team’s arrival. And then it’s silent.

And then I slump against the doorway of the house of the child I had saved. And I try to wipe my sweaty hands on my fatigues.

They come back bloody. There’s too much blood for it to be from Cerveza.

They start shaking again. I can’t find where I’ve been wounded. In fact, all I see is tunnel vision.

Once, when I was running from the cops in the Town, I fell and broke my ankle. I’m realizing, suddenly, that it feels nothing like that. It feels a million times worse.

“Thea? Thea—uhh, what the fuck?!—Deacon, get over here!”

I don’t remember when I got hit. I don’t even know how to identify the pain in the midst of all the adrenaline. I never even noticed. I guess I didn’t have as much like as I expected.

Starting to slump. Starting to lose it. I had been shot. This was supposed to be a good day. Today’s my birthday—

“I know, I know,” Jack murmurs. “Hey, Thea, we’re gonna get you outta here.” He calls to someone else—“We need to fall back to Maiwand!”

“Jesus, Fletch. That was insane. They’re gonna pin one on you for that one,” Ryan says.

“Did we do it?” I ask. My voice sounds wavering. It sounds loud, it sounds shaky. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what I’ve done. All I know is we’re going to be safe.

* * *

_Burke, Idaho_

**Present Day**

It feels like that.

It feels exactly like Helmand or Kandahar or wherever the fuck we were.

I thought I had suppressed that memory, that feeling, but the bomb brings it all back: the ringing of my ears, the blood on my head, the inability to breathe. Smoke, fire, all around me. When I look down, I’m in desert camo. There’s a shot to my chest. There’s blood, but I don’t know from where.

Wake up, Harper. Wake up. Get moving. Get to cover. Check on everyone. I see the village. I see the burning Humvees. It’s like I’ve dreamt the last fifteen years. All of that was a coma dream. A nightmare. This is reality? This is reality.

I get dragged back into cover, away from the decimation caused by the bomb. Ryan grasps onto me, checking my vest, checking my side.

“She’ll be fine. She’s fine—”

I try to breathe, but it comes in shallow, gasping chunks. “Where’s Dalton? What do we do?”

“What are you talking about?” Caleb says, but it’s not Caleb. It’s not his cadence. “Jack’s not here—”

“He should be. Where is he? We have to go back for him—”

Caleb glances to Ryan. He’s holding a hand to his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingertips. I can see it from here.

Ryan forces me back down on the ground, and I try to get feeling back in my hands. They’re shaking. They shouldn’t be shaking this much.

“I’m not leaving Jack behind.”

“Jack isn’t here,” Ryan says. “Dez has called Matty for exfil, we’re gonna get out of here, okay?”

“Matty? Matilda Webber? She’s… she’s in South America, she’s not… she’s not…”

I look around the desert. It almost flickers, like a bad cut in a foreign movie, to a street with decrepit buildings. It flashes back, flashes to the desert once again.

“Harps. AJ. You’re having a flashback. You’re having a flashback; you need to breathe—”

“I can’t breathe,” I say, and Ryan starts to pull off my vest. The release of it make my chest throb and burn, but I can breathe a little deeper now. Something inside is broken and shifting. I know my ribs are broken again.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?”

It doesn’t sound like Ryan anymore. It doesn’t feel like the desert anymore. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who—

Gentle fingers brush my loose hair back from my face. It shouldn’t be loose. It shouldn’t be out. I should be wearing my helmet. Something’s not right.

I close my eyes tight. I’m not there. It’s not Afghanistan. It’s not Kandahar or Helmand, I’m somewhere else, I’m—I’m—

“I’m gonna get Desi and Bozer, are you okay with her?”

That’s… that’s Mac’s voice. That’s Mac. I hadn’t met Mac in 2005. It was another four years before… before him.

I blink, I breathe, I feel someone’s hand in mine.

“Riles? Ri, what… what happened?”

She lets out a small chuckle, looking anywhere but me, as she breathes a sigh of relief.

“AJ, you had a flashback. I don’t know where you thought you were, but you… we couldn’t get you out.”

“The bomb,” I say, leaning into her knees. “The bomb, and the convoy, the rockets… the first time I got shot. The Humvee blew up. It felt like that, Riles. It felt like that.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” she murmurs, running her hand over my forehead, my hair.

“What happened to—to—”

“Mason escaped,” she confesses. “The bomb, it disabled Mac and I for a minute, and he got out.”

“Where the hell did he go?”

“Into the woods,” she says. “But you nailed him good. We’re not going to see him for a while.”

“That’s good. That’s—that’s good,” I breathe. “We still didn’t get him, though.”

She doesn’t look at me. “We’ll get him.”

Mac rejoins us, and I see Bozer and Dez, sitting on the hill, both bleeding. We’re all hurt. We’re all hurt except Mac.

And he looks terrified.

“Let me talk to her,” he says to Riley. The world still spins. My ears still ring, but he sits where he can put my head in his lap.

“This isn’t the worst outcome,” I say, hearing myself wheeze. Mac lifts up my shirt and looks at my chest.

“You’re gonna have a nasty bruise.”

“Probably broken ribs.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

He looks down at me, frustrated. “You should have never let me detonate that bomb.”

“Hey, we hurt him.”

“Sure, we slowed him down, but he’s alive.”

“And so are we,” I counter.

“I didn’t think your vest was rated for Desert Eagle .50 cals.”

“You’re welcome,” Bozer calls out.

“B made Matty upgrade all the vests,” I rasp. “Highest rated gear.”

I blow a kiss to Bozer. He mocks catching it.

But something bothers Mac. He can’t seem to rectify something in his brain.

“Mac…”

“We promised. I know, I just… right before the bomb, you said something. I can’t get it out of my head.”

I blink, I close my eyes, but it’s just searing, burning pain. I open them quickly, trying to get the image gone, but I can’t seem to remember what I said.

“Remind me.”

“You said you trusted me. You said I would have to earn back that trust.”

“I did.”

“Do you? Do you trust me?”

He’s so scared. He’s so worried, and he waits on bated breath.

“I don’t stay with things that aren’t going to work,” I whisper. “Yeah, Mac. I trust you.”

He leans down and kisses me. I know this battle is a Pyrrhic victory, but we still have yet to finish this war.

And something tells me it's about to get worse.


	25. Nike: Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While this battle was a victory, Phoenix knows they’ll have to face Mason again, and it’ll just be worse. But AJ knows something awakened in her the last few months, and she starts to thinking Mason is the least of her worries. 
> 
> The gunfire in her head is so loud.

_Hollywood Hills, CA_

**Late March**

We all get discharged from St. Angelina around the same time. Mac is the only one that came out unscathed. Bozer, a broken leg. Dez, multiple lacerations on both legs, crutches for her, too. Riley, a decently lucky shot in her shoulder. Me, broken ribs—had I moved any more, I probably would have ended up with flail chest and a punctured lung—a bruise that pretty much covered my entire torso, and another through and through bullet wound for my collection.

We all end up, albeit painfully, at the firepit, as promised. Bozer and Dez relax in the Adirondacks, while Riley spends her time staring into the fire. I finally find I comfortable enough position that doesn’t result me in breathing heavily, and I see Bozer eyeing me from across the porch.

“How many times _have_ you been shot?” Bozer finally asks, gesturing to me for another can of soda.

“Uh, thirteen,” I finally answer. “Not all of them as lucky as these.”

“Unlucky thirteen,” Bozer mutters.

“Or lucky,” Riley counters. “He could have gone for a headshot, and he missed.”

“That’s true,” Dez says. “He’s got the skill, and with that Desert Eagle, he could have blown your head clean off.”

“Thanks for the visual,” I say, nodding in her direction. Instead, though, I turn and look out across the LA cityscape.

After a long while, I see Mac return to the firepit, his father not far behind. They must have reached some sort of conclusion. Much like Mac and I, months ago, it may not be the best right now, but it doesn’t have to be the end.

When Mac looks up to me, his face changes. The anger, the frustration, it fades. All concern drains from his face, and I give him a smile. He finally breaks his stern look, first, smiling, and then looking down at something in his hands. Whatever it is, he slips quietly in his shirt pocket.

“AJ, can I talk to you?”

Over my shoulder appears James MacGyver. He pulls me to a more secluded part of the porch, nearly into the dark. Unfortunately, that’s where we like it. Slightly in the light, slightly in the dark. The metaphor isn’t lost on me.

“Did you talk to Mac?”

“I did,” he says cryptically. “I don’t think he forgives me, but I think he’s starting to understand.”

“You know, barely a year ago, Mac and I were having the same fight. A misunderstanding, emotions on high alert.”

“And look at you two now,” he says, glancing over my shoulder. I turn a little, I turn to look at Mac, and he’s laughing at whatever Bozer said. A typical reaction, but I can’t get over the plaid shirt and the wide smile. It’s enough to lift my spirits.

“He blames himself for what happened to the team,” James says. “All of you were injured, and he thinks it was on his account. You might need to talk him out of that.”

“I can take care of him,” I whisper, nearly faltering. The thought sticks in the forefront of my mind. “I never knew. Not until he told me. The reason Mason is after you is just as much my fault as it is Mac’s or yours.”

“You have no reason to believe it’s your fault,” he counters. “None of it is. I was saving my agents. His son knew what he signed up for.”

“Unfortunately, that agent was your son.”

“And you.”

I don’t know what my expression says, but James seems to pick up on my confusion. He sighs, he looks out across the other Hollywood Hills homes, the skyline, the gentle spring breeze bringing the heat of summer.

“Angus may be my best agent, but you… what you do is never lost on me. You go solo into so many situations others would turn away. You’ve survived so many attempts on your life, gunshot wounds—”

“—I’m up to thirteen,” I comment. Well, I brag. I think it’s something I can brag about, at least in this company.

“And that’s what I’m afraid of,” he says, laying a hand on my arm. “AJ, you’re special. You’re valued. You mean a lot to the Phoenix, you mean a lot to me, and you mean a lot to Angus. I just never want you to forget that, no matter how bad it gets. And I know that it gets bad.” He drifts. He doesn’t know how bad. “I wanted to give you something.”

He takes my hand and lays something inside. It’s a silver locket, a simple oval, with just a thin double line etching around the edge. I use my fingernail to pop it open. Inside are two photos: a blonde, chaotic looking toddler grasping a plastic hammer from a tool set and smiling widely for the camera, and a man holding a baby—he’s not looking at the camera, he’s looking down at the child in his arms. When I glance up to James, I realize it’s him, almost thirty years ago.

“I spoke to Angus. I’ve had this… I’ve had this since Ellen died, and I thought it was time to pass it along.”

“He… you both… James, I can’t accept this.”

Instead, he takes it from my hand, steps behind me and clasps it around my neck. It sits just below my evil eye and Saint Jeanne d’Arc medal. He adjusts my hair gently and steps back in front of me.

“Yes, you can. You should. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of this family. You’re part of our family.”

“Whether Mac likes it or not, you and I are at a different place than when we started.”

“I’ve done questionable things,” he says. He’s looking past me now, like he’s speaking to Mac instead. “I’ve done horrible things that I’m going to constantly be making up for. But I can start that now. Even if I have to make up for it until I die.”

“Mac said something like that to me when we made up,” I say. “You’re more alike than you care to admit.”

I catch James staring at Mac, the barest hint a smile inching along his lips. He takes a breath, he exhales, like he was going to say something and stopped. Then he breathes again.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I… I gave Angus his mother’s wedding ring.”

I stutter, I shake my head to clear my thoughts, I try to speak, and nothing comes out.

“I don’t know what he’ll do with it,” James continues. “But I wanted you to know.”

I exhale heavily, even though it hurts, and lean on the porch, my head swimming. But James was right—I was part of this family now. I had been Mac’s only family for years. And they were my only family. The MacGyvers, Dez, Bozer, Riley, Jack, Matty. Sam and Leanna. The Delta team. I had been looking for a reason to call this home for years when it was always staring me in the face.

I remember the fear, though. I remember the fear, and the terror, and the flashback I had in Idaho. It was so vivid, and so real, that I had thought I was living it again. And I don't know what to do about it. 

“You good?”

I shake myself from the steady stream of deep thoughts and see Mac instead of his dad. James, it seems, had disappeared. I’m not upset about the shift.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You were standing here for a while.”

“I was talking to your dad—”

“He left about fifteen minutes ago,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I rub my eyes with my palms. “Yeah, I’m fine. Zoned out a little.”

With a gentle hand, Mac slips the locket under his fingertips. “He gave it to you. He wanted to be the one to give it to you.”

“We have an interesting relationship.”

“The fact that you have one at all is interesting,” he harrumphs. He gets the same far away look as his dad does. I don’t want to tell him that, though.

“You’re worried about Mason.”

“I’m worried about Mason,” he sighs. “We don’t know where he went, or what he’s doing. Or what he’s planning.”

“But we will. We will find him, Mac. It’s just a matter of time. And we slowed him down. Whatever vengeance timetable he put himself on, it has definitely changed.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to take two more bullets for it.”

“Lucky thirteen,” I chuckle, but it hurts, so I cringe. “How is everyone doing?”

“Surprisingly well,” he says, looking over his shoulder to the firepit. “I filled Jack in. He wasn’t happy, but of course, we would have done the same with him. Dez is… she’s always fine. Riley is… she’s quiet, but I think she’s dealing. B has had worse. He’s been shot a few times, stabbed… he’ll bounce back.”

“What about you?”

“I didn’t get hurt,” he says, not looking away from the pit.

“Sure, you did,” I chide, I whisper, drawing his face back to mine. I kiss him lightly, and he gives me a brief smirk. “You’re hurting worse than any of us. We all signed up for this. We know what could happen. And we all walked away. This time, you can consider us lucky.”

“I don’t want to know what happens if we’re unlucky,” he mutters, looking down at his hands. I glance at his shirt pocket. I know the wedding ring rests inside. But I know I’ll never say a word. Not until he asks me a question.

“Can you just enjoy this moment, at least?” I say, kissing him once more. He draws me closer. Every time we do this, it’s like he’s afraid I’m going to let go. I don’t need to remind him that I won’t. Not after the past year. I had faced enough inescapable scenarios in the past year. I had enacted enough of my own personal retribution.

My only fear, I realize as Mac heads back to the firepit, is the inescapable sound of gunfire that I can’t seem to shake, not since Budapest, not since the explosions, and the desperate feeling of my memories haunting me.

I look down at my hand. It shakes more than it ever did before. I try to make it stop, I try to push it down, but the sounds get louder and the feeling of dread threatens to slip out of my throat.

The truths I had buried deep inside, good or bad, had started to come out.


End file.
